©amt0  anb  SaugJjttra 
of  Colontal  ®ag0 

By 
G E RAL DINE      BROOKS 


"  There  may  be,  and  there  often  is,  indeed,  a  regard  for 
ancestry  which  nourishes  only  a  weak  pride.  .  .  .  But  there 
is,  also,  a  moral  and  philosophical  respect  for  our  ancestors 
which  elevates  the  character  and  improves  the  heart." 

— Daniel  Webster. 


ILLUSTRATE  D 


$ 


jUeto  lork 
THOMAS  Y.   CROWELL  &  CO. 

PUBLISHERS 


OF   THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


mm  room 


,ii;' 


Copyright,  1900 
By  Thomas  Y.  Crowell  <$•  Co. 


PREFACE 


These  narrative  sketches  of  certain  dames  and 
daughters  of  our  colonial  days  are  designed  to 
illustrate  the  different  types,  epochs,  and  sections 
that  made  up  our  early  American  history.  Other 
names  of  almost  equal  importance  with  those 
chosen  could  have  been  included  in  the  pages  of 
this  volume,  but  that  might  have  given  undue 
preponderance  to  a  particular  epoch  or  a  special 
section.  It  has  been  the  author's  endeavor  to  show 
in  her  choice  of  characters,  periods,  and  environ- 
ments the  changing  conditions  of  colonial  life  from 
the  stern  and  controversial  days  of  early  settle- 
ment to  the  broader  if  no  less  strenuous  times 
that  saw  the  birth  of  the  republic. 

The  author  wishes  to,  express  her  indebtedness 
to  the  published  researches  of  that  indefatigable 
delver  in  colonial  history  Mrs.  Alice  Morse  Earle, 
and  to  the  biographical  series  entitled  "  Women  of 
Colonial  and  Revolutionary  Days,"  of  which  Mrs. 
Earle  is  editor ;  to  the  collection  of  Americana 
in  the  Boston  Public  Library,  the  Boston  Athe- 
nseum  and  the  Somerville  Public  Library,  and  es- 
pecially to  the  courtesy  of  Mr.  William  S.  Thomas, 
of  Baltimore,  in  placing  at  her  service  the  excel- 
lent sketch  of  Margaret  Brent  written  by  his 
father,  the  late  John  L.  Thomas. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     Anne  Hutchinson,  of  Boston,  Founder  of  the 

First  Woman's  Club  in  America,  1636      .     .          1 
II.     Frances  Mary  Jacqueline  La  Tour,  the  De- 
fender of  Fort  La  Tour,  1650 31 

III.  Margaret  Brent,  the  Woman  Ruler  of  Mary- 

land, 1650 59 

IV.  Madam  Sarah  Knight,  a  Colonial  Traveller, 

1704 75 

V.     Eliza  Lucas,  of  Charleston,  afterwards  Wife 

of  Chief-Justice  Charles  Pinckney,  1760      .     103 
VI.     Martha  Washington,  of  Mount  Vernon,  Wife 

of  General  George  Washington,  1770      .     .     133 
VII.     Abigail    Adams,    Wife    of    John    Adams   and 

Mother  of  John  'Quincy  Adams,  1770       .     .     169 
VIII.     Elizabeth  Schuyler,   of  Albany,  afterwards 

Wife  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  1776      .     .     .     215 
IX.     Sarah    Wister     and    Deborah    Norris,    Two 

Quaker  Friends  of  Philadelphia,  1776    .     .     245 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Drawings  by  Charles  Copeland. 


PAGE 

"'The    Mistress    President'    starting    off    for     a 

Drive."     (Page  164) Frontispiece 

"  '  My  Judgment  is  not  altered,  though  my  Expres- 
sion  alters,'  she   declared,   in   Ringing   Tones,"       23 

41  Every     Man     was     inspired     by     her     Skill      and 

Courage  "        54 

U'I  make    you   my  Sole   Executrix,'  he  said;    'take 

All  and  pay  All  ' " 64 

"  Down  the  Dark  Ashley  River  in  a  Canoe  hol- 
lowed from  a  Great  Cypress" 119 

"'  Johnny,'  the  Post-rider" 196 

11  The   Next   Instant   the    Girl   drew   quickly  away 

from  the  Window  " 216 

"  Climbing    upon    a    Big   Wheelbarrow    that    stood 

there,  they  peered  over  the  wall"     ....     249 


DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS 
OF  COLONIAL  DAYS 


r. 


ANNE    HUTCHINSON,    OF    BOSTON, 

FOUNDER    OF   THE    FIRST    WOMAN'S    CLUB     IN 
AMERICA. 


Born  in  Lincolnshire,  England,  1590. 
Died  at  Pelham,  New  York,  in  1643. 


"The  Joan  of  Arc  of  New  England,  whose  dauntless  spirit, 
confronted  by  her  tormentors,  triumphed  over  momentary 
weakness."  —  Doyle. 

The  room  was  crowded  with  women,  dressed  in 
the  olives,  browns,  and  drabs  of  the  quiet  Puritan 
taste.  The  faces  of  some  bore  signs  of  home- 
sickness and  of  longing.  Others  showed  the  gen- 
tleness and  fortitude  of  spirit  that  had  found 
strength  and  comfort  in  the  new  life  over  seas. 
All  eyes  were  fixed  in  intent  earnestness  upon  the 
face  of  the  speaker,  who  gravely  sat  in  her  straight- 
backed  chair,  beside  a  severe-looking  table  strewn 
with  manuscripts. 

With  her  hands  clasped  firmly  in  her  lap  and  her 


2        COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS, 

head  thrown  back  a  little,  as  if  in  a  certain  "  bold- 
ness "  of  spirit,  the  speaker's  bright  eyes  travelled 
from  one  inquiring  face  to  another,  while  her  voice 
thrilled  with  the  enthusiasm  she  felt  in  her  subject. 

She  was  dwelling  upon  the  superiority  of  her 
own  minister,  the  Rev.  John  Cotton,  to  the  other 
ministers  of  that  day  in  and  about  Boston. 

"  The  difference  between  Mr.  Cotton  and  the 
other  ministers  of  this  colony,"  she  declared,  "is 
as  wide  as  between  heaven  and  hell ;  for  he  preaches 
not  a  convenant  of  works,  but  of  grace,  and  they, 
having  not  a  seal  of  the  spirit,  are  no  able  ministers 
of  the  New  Testament." 

There  was  no  stir  of  surprise  or  disapprobation 
among  her  listeners.  Yet  these  were  bold  words. 
Here  was  a  woman  venturing  to  set  herself  up  as 
a  judge  over  the  spiritual  heads  of  the  colony  of 
Massachusetts  Bay,  and  that,  too,  at  a  time  when 
the  church  was  regarded  as  the  centre  of  all  au- 
thority, life,  and  interest,  when  the  rules  as  to 
church  attendance  and  the  observance  of  the  Sab- 
bath were  most  rigid,  when  ministers  were  esteemed 
beyond  criticism,  and  church  membership  was  a 
test  of  citizenship. 

But  such  were  the  wisdom,  brilliancy,  and  mag- 
netism of  Mistress  Anne  Hutchinson,  of  Boston- 
town,  that  her  daring  words  were  received  with 
favor  rather  than  with  disapproval.  Many  heads 
framed  in  the  Puritan  caps  of  those  colonial  days 
were  seen  nodding  in  agreement  with  the  speaker, 


ANNE    HUTCHINSON.  3 

and  one  shrewd  little  woman  whispered  to  her 
neighbor :  "  I  declare,  Mrs.  Hutchinson  hath  more 
learning  than  the  ministers,  hath  she  not  ?  " 

It  was  one  of  many  such  meetings  held  at  Anne 
Hutchinson's  own  dwelling,  a  plain  frame  home- 
stead of  those  first  colony  days,  standing  at  the 
corner  of  Washington  and  School  streets.  Upon 
the  site  of  that  house,  years  after,  was  built  the 
famous  "  Old  Corner  Book  Store,"  which  is  still  a 
landmark  in  the  Boston  of  to-day. 

Twice  each  week  the  women  of  Boston,  and 
some  from  the  neighboring  towns,  would  take  their 
way  along  the  narrow  winding  footpaths  that  led 
across  the  river  marshes  and  through  the  cornfields, 
past  the  meeting-house  and  the  market,  to  Anne 
Hutchinson's  home,  where  in  her  plain  but  spacious 
living-room  they  would  read  together,  discuss,  and 
criticise  the  sermons  of  the  ministers  in  and  about 
the  capital  of  the  Puritan  colony. 

As  the  originator  and  leader  of  these  women's 
meetings  Mrs.  Anne  Hutchinson  may  be  regarded 
as  the  first  American  club-woman,  although  the 
difference  between  the  woman's  club  of  to-day  and 
those  vague,  mystical  theological  discussions  in 
Anne  Hutchinson's  house  was  "  as  wide  "  —  if  we 
may  fall  back  upon  her  own  antithesis  — "  as  be- 
tween heaven  and  hell." 

The  life  of  the  colonial  dames  and  daughters  of 
Anne  Hutchinson's  day  was  wofully  limited,  and 
it  is  not  surprising  that  those  first  Boston  women, 


4        COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

in  the  absence  of  all  pleasant  social  gatherings, 
knowing  nothing  of  newspapers,  libraries,  or  daily 
mail,  found  Anne  Hutchinson's  semi-weekly  gather- 
ings most  attractive  ;  they  must  surely  have  en- 
joyed the  freedom  of  thought  and  speech,  the 
questioning  and  objecting  practised  at  their  meet- 
ings, and  perhaps,  too,  they  were  fascinated  by  that 
spice  of  danger  which  they  realized  entered  into 
their  criticisms  of  men,  then  supreme  in  control. 

Nor  is  it  any  wonder  that  the  ministers  themselves 
grew  wroth  at  all  this  objecting  and  criticising,  that 
they  felt  the  blow  dealt  their  assumed  superiority 
and  their  self-conceit,  and  that  they  finally  rose 
in  a  body  to  denounce  and  arraign  this  "  breeder 
of  heresies,"  as  they  called  Anne  Hutchinson. 

It  is  a  pity  that  we  cannot  know  this  interesting 
woman  more  intimately.  The  most  that  has  been 
said  of  her  comes  from  the  mouths  of  her  enemies. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  Francis  Marbury,  a  noted 
preacher  of  Lincolnshire,  in  old  England.  Her 
husband  was  William  Hutchinson  of  the  same 
English  shire. 

Of  William  Hutchinson  little  is  known  to  us 
save  that  he  was  Anne  Hutchinson's  husband,  and 
I  am  very  much  afraid  that  it  was  a  case  of  Mrs. 
Hutchinson  and  husband.  John  Winthrop,  in  his 
diary,  speaks  of  William  Hutchinson  as  a  man  of 
"a  very  mild  temper  and  weak  parts,  wholly 
guided  by  his  wife." 

But  when  we  discover  that  William  Hutchinson 


ANNE    HUTCHINSON  5 

was  by  no  means  the  only  man  guided  by  Mistress 
Anne,  and  that  she  numbered  among  her  followers 
such  men  as  her  brother-in-law,  the  Rev.  John 
Wheelwright,  the  only  man  of  whom  Cromwell 
ever  confessed  a  fear;  William  Coddington,  a 
worthy  magistrate  of  Boston,  and,  later,  founder 
and  governor  of  Rhode  Island ;  that  brilliant  and 
noble  "  boy  governor "  of  the  colony,  young  Sir 
Harry  Vane  ;  and,  for  a  while,  even  that  most  able 
religious  leader  and  teacher  of  his  time,  John  Cot- 
ton, foremost  minister  of  Boston,  lecturer  of  Trin- 
ity College,  and  champion  of  the  civil  power ;  —  we 
may  ascribe  Anne  Hutchinson's  "  guidance  "  less 
to  the  "  weak  parts  "  of  the  gentlemen  than  to  the 
"  ready  wit "  and  "  bold  spirit "  which  John  Win- 
throp  also  records  as  characteristic  of  this  out- 
spoken and  brilliant  woman. 

She,  on  her  part,  was  deeply  influenced  by  the 
preaching  of  John  Cotton.  In  her  English  home 
she  had  listened  with  intense  spiritual  fervor  to  his 
preaching  as  vicar  of  St.  Botolph,  in  that  Lincoln- 
shire Boston  which  gave  its  name  to  the  new  Bos- 
ton of  Massachusetts  Bay.  When  he  became  a 
non-conformist  and  sought  refuge  and  a  home 
among  the  Puritans  of  the  Bay  State,  the  memory 
of  his  words  was  still  a  strong  power  in  the  parish 
he  had  left,  and  Anne  Hutchinson,  upon  her  arrival 
at  Boston,  frankly  confessed  that  she  had  crossed 
the  sea  solely  to  be  under  his  preaching  in  his  new 
home. 


6        COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

It  was  in  September,  1634,  that  the  ship  "  Grif- 
fith "  brought  Mrs.  Anne  Hutchinson  with  her  hus- 
band and  family  to  Boston.  We  are  told  that,  even 
on  the  voyage  across,  she  "  vented  "  opinions  and 
claimed  "  revelations  "  which  very  much  shocked 
one  of  her  fellow-passengers,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Symmes. 
He  must  have  said  as  much  ;  for,  soon  after  land- 
ing, some  report  of  her  fanatical  opinions  was  cir- 
culated among  the  members  of  the  church  at 
Boston. 

In  fact,  so  great  was  the  dread  of  what  were 
called  the  "  Antinomian  heresies  "  that  Mrs.  Hutch- 
inson was  not  admitted  to  membership  in  the 
Boston  church  when  her  husband  was.  And  even 
as  early  as  this  in  her  American  career  she  was 
regarded  with  some  suspicion. 

It  is  hard  to  tell  just  how  her  religious  views 
disagreed  with  those  of  the  colony  churches.  Win- 
throp  asserted  that  she  brought  two  dangerous 
errors  with  her.  These  "  errors  "  hinged  upon  some 
abstract  difference  between  a  "  covenant  of  works  " 
and  a  "  covenant  of  grace,"  all  of  which  sounds  un- 
intelligible to  us  of  to-day. 

"  As  to  the  precise  difference,"  Winthrop  him- 
self was  forced  to  declare,  "  no  man  could  tell,  ex- 
cept some  few  who  knew  the  bottom  of  the  matter, 
where  the  difference  lay."  Gov.  John  Winthrop 
was  a  very  able  thinker  and  clear-headed  man; 
so  if  he  was  in  the  dark  we  scarcely  need  trouble 
our  heads  over  this  argument  of  the  long  ago. 


ANNE    HUTCHINSON.  7 

But  in  spite  of  her  revelations  and  heretical 
opinions  Anne  Hutchinson  won  the  regard  and 
love  of  her  fellow-colonists  through  her  kind  offices 
to  the  sick  and  sorrowing.  And  a  month  after  her 
husband's  admission  to  the  Boston  church,  she,  too, 
was  made  a  member.  Those  who  admitted  her  to 
fellowship  were,  however,  soon  to  regret  their  ac- 
tion. For,  as  you  may  judge  from  what  has  already 
been  said  of  her,  Mistress  Anne  Hutchinson,  al- 
though an  intelligent,  courageous,  charitable,  and 
helpful  woman,  was  also  very  free-spoken.  Her 
"  voluble  tongue  "  soon  involved  the  colony  in  a 
religious  and  political  controversy. 

As  her  teachings  began  to  take  effect  there 
resulted  among  her  followers  a  general  practice  of 
attending  church  in  a  spirit  of  criticism.  After 
the  sermon  objections  were  discharged  at  the  min- 
ister "  like  so  many  pistol-shots."  Open  criticism 
grew  into  pronounced  contempt.  When  a  minister 
whom  they  did  not  care  to  hear  occupied  the  pulpit 
some  enthusiasts  would  rise  and,  "  contemptuously 
turning  their  backs  "  upon  the  preacher,  walk  out 
of  the  meeting-house.  This  practice  was  but  fol- 
lowing Mrs.  Hutchinson's  example  ;  for  whenever 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Wilson  stood  up  to  speak,  immediately 
she  would  rise  and  depart.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Wil- 
son was  the  minister  of  the  Boston  church  as  John 
Cotton  was  the  teacher,  —  really  a  case  of  pastor 
and  colleague,  —  and  this  was  the  original,  though 
scarcely  courteous   way   that    Mrs.  Anne    Hutch- 


8        COLONIAL    DAMES   AND    DAUGHTERS. 

inson  took  of  showing  her  preference  for  the 
"teacher"  or  colleague. 

There  is  certainly  a  humorous  side  to  this  story 
of  threatened  schism  in  the  Boston  church;  for 
those  stern  Puritan  divines  of  solemn  face  and 
sombre  garb,  of  autocratic  conscience  though  of 
God-fearing  purpose,  of  theological  bias  and  of 
narrow  mind,  must  certainly  have  cut  pitiable  fig- 
ures under  the  disrespectful  treatment  of  the  ob- 
noxious Hutchinsonians.  It  is,  indeed,  a  ques- 
tion whether  they  were  able  to  maintain  their 
clerical  dignity  to  their  own  satisfaction  under  the 
"  pistol-shots  "  and  the  contemptuously  departing 
backs. 

But  there  was  also  a  gravely  serious  side  to  this 
affair.  Through  the  teaching  of  Anne  Hutchinson 
dissension  was  arising  within  the  colony  of  Massa- 
chusetts Bay.  Now  the  safety  of  the  colony  de- 
pended upon  the  peaceful  behavior  of  the  colonists. 
Any  disagreement  among  them  might  easily  lead 
to  a  loss  of  their  charter,  and,  consequently,  to  a 
loss  of  that  religious  and  civil  liberty  which  was  so 
dear  to  them. 

Gov.  John  Winthrop  and  those  who  supported 
him  felt  this  keenly.  With  anxiety  and  disap- 
proval they  had  watched  the  growing  disaffection 
that  had  followed  upon  Mrs.  Hutchinson's  out- 
spoken criticisms,  and  they  sought  to  stop  it  before 
it  should  prove  a  "  canker  to  their  peace  and  a  ruin 
to  their  comforts." 


ANNE    HUTCHINSON.  9 

The  controversy  started  in  the  Boston  chnrch. 
Parson  Wilson  began  to  resent  Mrs.  Hutchinson's 
hostile  attitude  toward  himself,  and  the  minister  and 
the  woman  lecturer  soon  became  open  antagonists. 

The  church  was  divided  into  two  parties.  The 
former  governor,  John  Winthrop,  believing  that 
course  best  for  the  colony,  took  up  Mr.  Wilson's 
cause,  while  Mrs.  Hutchinson  had  with  her  a 
majority  of  the  Boston  church,  including  young  Sir 
Harry  Vane,  who  was  then  governor  of  Massachu- 
setts Bay.  She  also  had  the  sympathy  and  partial 
support  of  her  teacher  and  friend,  the  Rev.  John 
Cotton. 

The  quarrel  soon  spread  beyond  the  limits  of 
the  town.  All  the  ministers  of  the  surrounding 
country  with  the  exception  of  the  Rev.  John 
Wheelwright,  of  Braintree,  sided  with  Wilson  and 
Winthrop.  Wheelwright,  together  with  John  Cot- 
ton, was  included  by  Mrs.  Hutchinson  in  the  "  cov- 
enant of  grace,"  and  as  her  brother-in-law  and 
ardent  sympathizer  he  became  a  prominent  member 
of  the  Hutchinson  faction. 

The  churches  of  the  colony  outside  of  the  capital 
town  supported  their  ministers,  and  thus  the  dis- 
pute assumed  a  political  character.  It  became  a 
contest  of  the  suburbs  against  Boston,  Wilson  and 
Winthrop  of  the  Boston  church  being  of  the  sub- 
urban or  clerical  faction. 

It  seemed,  at  first,  as  if  the  Hutchinson  element 
would   prevail.      Mrs.    Hutchinson's    quick  sallies 


10      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

and  ready  replies  threw  into  contempt  the  grave 
censures  of  Winthrop  and  Wilson.  Her  brilliancy, 
her  courage,  her  defiance  of  authority,  were  mag- 
netic. They  fascinated  and  persuaded  where  the 
hard,  dull  logic  of  the  opposition  failed.  But  Mis- 
tress Anne  Hutchinson  was  soon  to  learn  her  own 
weakness,  while  the  sensitive  and  impulsive  Sir 
Harry  Yane  with  his  broad  views  of  progress  was 
to  meet  with  disappointment.  The  ministers  might 
be  "narrow-minded  bigots,"  as  it  has  become  the 
fashion  to  characterize  them,  but  they  were  stern 
and  determined  men.  And  the  influence  of  Win- 
throp, father  of  Massachusetts,  the  defender  of  the 
clergy  and  the  old  order,  was  slow,  perhaps,  but 
sure. 

His  power  was  realized,  and  resulted  in  success 
for  himself  and  the  ministers  whom  he  championed, 
when,  at  the  election  held  at  Cambridge  on  the  17th 
of  May,  1637,  he  was  chosen  governor  of  the  colony 
in  place  of  young  Sir  Harry  Vane,  who,  with  the 
other   Hutchinsonians,  were  set  aside. 

The  shock  to  the  enthusiastic  hopes  of  young  Sir 
Harry  Vane  was  too  great  for  recovery.  The  fol- 
lowing August  he  sailed  home  to  England,  always 
to  remain,  in  spite  of  his  stormy  Massachusetts  ex- 
perience, a  stanch  friend  to  the  colonies,  always 
an  "  apostle  of  freedom,"  perishing,  indeed,  upon 
the  scaffold  for  liberty  of  conscience  and  freedom 
of  man. 

With    the    election    of    Winthrop    as  governor, 


ANNE    HUTCHINSON.  11 

and  the  withdrawal  of  Vane,  the  clerical  faction 
assumed  control.  The  General  Court  was  composed 
almost  entirely  of  men  from  that  party,  and  it  at 
once  adopted  a  course  of  action  that  was  prompt  as 
well  as  autocratic. 

Attention  was  first  directed  toward  the  Rev.  John 
Wheelwright,  of  Braintree,  one  of  the  ablest  sup- 
porters of  the  Hutchinson  cause.  A  man  of  courage 
and  firm  purpose,  second  only  in  authority  to  Anne 
Hutchinson  herself,  he  was  declared  guilty  of 
"  sedition  and  contempt "  and  sentenced  to  ban- 
ishment. 

Other  Hutchinsonians  were  punished  with  fines, 
disfranchisement,  or  banishment.  The  main  efforts 
of  the  Court,  however,  were  exerted  against  the 
woman  whom  the  clergy  regarded  as  the  "  breeder 
and  nourisher  of  all  these  disasters." 

Wheelwright  had  not  yet  left  his  Braintree  home 
to  seek  shelter  in  the  wilderness  of  New  Hamp- 
shire when  Mrs.  Hutchinson  was  summoned  to 
appear  before  the  court  to  answer  to  charges 
brought  against  her.  Her  trial  was  held  at  Cam- 
bridge, on  the  17th  of  November,  1637. 

We  can  well  believe  that  the  world  had  a  hard, 
dull  look  that  day  for  Anne  Hutchinson.  She 
found  little  consolation  in  the  ice  and  snow,  the 
barren  sea-coast  and  river  banks  of  her  New  Eng- 
land home.  As  she  crossed  the  Charles  on  her  way 
to  the  Cambridge  meeting-house,  the  east  wind, 
sweeping  in  from  the  bay,  chilled  her  so  that  she 


12      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

shivered  involuntarily.  She  might  almost  read  a 
prophecy  in  its  bitterness,  but  she  set  her  face  reso- 
lutely against  it  and  her  firmly  closed  lips  showed 
that  she  was  bracing  herself  for  the  ordeal  before 
her.  As  she  came  in  sight  of  the  meeting-house 
she  saw  that  people  were  gathering  there  from 
all  quarters.  They  came  in  farm  wagon,  in  the 
saddle,  and  on  foot.  Almost  every  one  of  impor- 
tance in  the  colony  was  there. 

The  little  log  meeting-house  of  New  Towne  (the 
Cambridge  of  to-day)  stood  at  what  is  now  the 
corner  of  Mount  Auburn  and  Dunster  streets,  just 
off  from  Harvard  square.  It  was  a  cold,  dark, 
barn-like  building,  and  on  the  morning  of  Anne 
Hutchinson's  trial  the  gloom  of  the  November  day 
had  settled  upon  it.  The  few  small  windows 
admitted  little  light,  and  to  Anne  Hutchinson's 
overwrought  imagination  those  windows  seemed 
like  spying  eyes  frowning  down  upon  her. 

Every  wooden  bench  in  the  house  was  crowded 
with  spectators.  At  his  table  sat  Governor  Win- 
throp,  surrounded  by  the  Assistants  of  his  Council, 
the  clergy,  and  the  magistrates  who  made  up  the 
court.  Gov.  John  Winthrop's  face,  rising  above 
the  familiar  Puritan  ruff,  looked  less  kind  that  day 
than  usual.  There  was  a  slight  knitting  of  the 
broad  brow  as  if  he,  too,  regarded  the  coming  trial 
as  an  ordeal  which  he  must  undergo  for  the  sake 
of  duty  and  discipline. 

Anne   Hutchinson  stood   in  the  place  assigned 


ANNE    HUTCHINSON.  13 

her  and  faced  her  accusers.  There  was  no  show 
of  defiance  in  her  manner.  She  was  calm  and 
respectful.  The  hard,  determined  faces  of  her 
judges  were  in  striking  contrast  to  her  slight,  deli- 
cate frame  and  sensitive  face,  still  young,  but  a 
little  worn  from  the  intellectual  warfare  through 
which  she  was  passing.  As  she  stood  before  the 
court,  under  fire  of  the  hostile  glances  and  scolding 
words  of  those  about  her,  Anne  Hutchinson  was 
not  afraid.  She  knew  herself  to  be  in  the  right, 
and  that  thought  brought  her  strength  and  cour- 
age. She  recalled  the  story  of  Daniel  the  prophet, 
and  how  the  princes  and  presidents  "  sought  matter 
against  him  concerning  the  law  of  God,"  and  cast 
him  into  the  lions'  den,  from  which,  she  assured 
herself,  the  Lord  delivered  him.  It  seemed  to  her 
steadfast  but  over-stimulated  mind  that  the  Lord 
also  promised  such  deliverance  to  her. 

Her  spirits  rose,  but  her  physical  strength  seemed 
deserting  her.  Her  face  lost  its  color.  She  swayed 
and  grasped  the  nearest  bench  for  support.  Then 
some  one  not  wholly  without  courtesy  toward  this 
one  woman  standing  so  alone  and  unchampioned, 
offered  her  a  chair  and  she  sat  down. 

The  accusations  of  the  court  were  at  first  general 
and  trivial.  Mrs.  Hutchinson  was  as  quick-witted 
as  usual  in  her  replies.  When  Winthrop  charged 
her  with  having  held  unauthorized  meetings  at  her 
house,  she  inquired  pertinently : 

"  Have  I  not  a  rule  for  such  meetings  in  the  in- 


14      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

junctions  of  Paul  to  Titus,  that  the  elder  women 
should  instruct  the  younger  ?  " 

Later  in  the  trial  the  ministers  were  called  upon 
to  testify  as  to  the  criticisms  which  she  had  passed 
upon  their  preaching.  They  spoke  with  resent- 
ment and  anger,  and,  as  she  listened,  Mrs.  Hutch- 
inson experienced  her  first  sensation  of  dismay. 
Any  words  of  hers,  she  realized,  would  be  power- 
less to  appease  such  bitterness  and  wounded 
vanity. 

She  felt  the  need  of  a  supporter,  some  one  to 
help  her  plead  her  cause.  Suddenly  a  chair  was 
drawn  beside  her,  and,  recognizing  in  the  very 
movement  an  expression  of  the  sympathy  she 
craved,  she  turned  gratefully  to  her  friend.  And 
then  her  face  lighted  with  pleasure.  It  was  her 
teacher,  John  Cotton,  who  sat  beside  her.  But  he 
did  not  meet  the  glance  of  her  thankful  eyes.  He 
seemed  rather  to  avoid  it,  as  if  reluctant  to  show 
undue  interest  in  the  culprit. 

When  asked  to  give  his  testimony,  however, 
John  Cotton  spoke  eloquently  in  Anne  Hutchin- 
son's defence,  and  explained  away  so  smoothly  and 
convincingly  the  difference  which  the  accused  had 
drawn  between  his  own  preaching  and  the  preach- 
ing of  the  other  ministers  that  the  opposition  was 
somewhat  broken  down. 

Thus  far  in  the  trial  very  little  had  been  proved 
against  Mrs.  Hutchinson.  Her  few  supporters  in 
the  audience  were  drawing  a  sigh  of  relief  as  John 


ANNE    HUTCHINSON.  15 

Cotton  concluded  and  William  Coddington,  her 
one  friendly  judge,  thought  he  saw  a  chance  for  the 
woman  whom  he  felt  to  be  unjustly  accused. 

Then,  suddenly,  of  her  own  accord,  she  intro- 
duced the  subject  of  revelations,  and,  in  the  words 
of  her  antagonist,  Parson  Wilson,  "  her  own  mouth 
delivered  her  into  the  power  of  the  court." 

With  a  calm  and  dispassionate  fervor  she  recited 
her  story  of  miraculous  visions,  while  the  court 
listened  with  silent  but  open  astonishment.  Her 
closing  words  rang  out  with  terrible  distinctness 
through  the  little  meeting-house  : 

"  I  fear  none  but  the  great  Jehovah  which  hath 
foretold  me  these  things,"  she  cried ;  "  and  I  do 
verily  believe  that  he  will  deliver  me  out  of  your 
hands.  Therefore  take  heed  how  you  proceed 
against  me ;  for  I  know  that  for  this  you  go  about 
to  do  me,  God  will  ruin  you  and  your  posterity  and 
the  whole  state." 

After  these  audacious  words  there  was  a  momen- 
tary pause  of  triumph  among  her  enemies,  of  dis- 
may among  her  friends.  Then  the  clergy  and  the 
whole  court  hurled  at  her  bitter  reproofs,  invec- 
tives, and  denunciations.  To  their  minds,  by  her 
own  voice  she  had  proved  herself  guilty  of  an 
atrocious  heresy  ;  for  to  the  Puritans  of  that 
illiberal  day  belief  in  personal  revelation  was  a 
grave  sin,  and  to  threaten  the  disruption  of  the 
colony  was  worse  than  blasphemy. 

Then  Winthrop  rose,  stern  and  judicial : 


16      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

"  Is  it  the  opinion  of  the  court,"  he  demanded, 
"  that,  for  the  troublesomeness  of  her  spirit  and 
the  danger  of  her  cause,  this  woman,  Mistress  Anne 
Hutchinson,  be  banished  from  the  colony  ?  " 

Only  three  hands  were  lifted  in  opposition.  The 
court  was  overwhelmingly  against  her. 

The  governor  turned  to  Anne  Hutchinson. 
There  may  have  been  some  pity  in  his  heart  for  the 
daring  and  brilliant  woman  before  him.  To  Anne 
Hutchinson,  however,  his  eyes  looked  unsym- 
pathetic, hard,  even  cruel. 

"  Mistress  Hutchinson,"  said  the  governor, 
"  hear  now  the  sentence  of  the  court.  It  is  that 
you  are  banished  out  of  our  jurisdiction  as  being  a 
woman  not  fit  for  our  society,  and  you  are  to  be 
imprisoned  until  the  court  shall  send  you  away." 

At  these  harsh  and  authoritative  words  there 
was  a  glimmer  of  the  old  defiance  in  Anne  Hutch- 
inson's face. 

"I  desire  to  know  wherefore  I  am  banished,"  she 
exclaimed. 

"  Say  no  more,"  came  the  stern  rejoinder.  "  The 
court  knows  wherefore,  and  is  satisfied." 

The  sentence,  as  taken  from  the  records  of 
Massachusetts  Bay  colony,  reads  as  follows — for 
us  it  answers  Mrs.  Hutchinson's  query : 

"  Mrs.  Hutchinson  being  convicted  for  traducing 
the  ministers,  she  declared  voluntarily  the  revela- 
tions for  her  ground,  and  that  she  should  be  de- 
livered, and  the  court  ruined  and  their  posterity ; 


ANNE    HUTCHINSON.  17 

and  thereupon  was  banished,  and  meanwhile  was 
committed  to  Mr.  Joseph  Weld  until  the  court 
should  dispose  of  her." 

Mrs.  Hutchinson's  captivity  at  the  house  of 
Joseph  Weld  in  Roxbury  must  have  been  tedious 
and  wearing,  but  it  can  scarcely  have  been  lonely. 

Although  none  of  her  friends  except  her  own 
family  were  permitted  to  see  her,  lest  she  might  do 
further  harm  by  spreading  her  heresies,  the  elders 
and  ministers  of  the  church  were  most  diligent  in 
their  attendance  upon  her.  They  came  at  all  hours 
to  discuss  and  reason  with  her.  Their  topics  of 
conversation  seem  to  us  but  the  vague  points  of 
theological  dispute,  neither  interesting  nor  intelli- 
gible. To  Mrs.  Hutchinson,  however,  these  relig- 
ious talks  were  stimulating  ;  in  her  peculiar  condi- 
tion of  mind  and  body  they  were  even  intoxicating. 
During  these  talks,  we  are  told,  she  gave  out  more 
opinions  and  revelations  than  ever  before. 

In  a  way  she  enjoyed  her  imprisonment.  She 
was  still  the  most  noted  woman  in  the  colony. 
Her  role  of  persecuted  prophetess  became  her. 
She  grew  more  and  more  eloquent,  and,  careless  of 
consequences,  opened  her  mouth  and  talked  freely 
to  the  visiting  clergy. 

The  conduct  of  the  eminent  Mr.  Cotton  at  this 
period  is  anything  but  edifying,  and  it  must  have 
been  to  Mrs.  Hutchinson  fairly  heart-rending. 
Finding  that  his  position  in  the  controversy  and 
his  sympathy  for  Mrs.  Hutchinson  were  not  popu- 


18      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

lar,  but  rather  endangering  to  his  peace  and  happi- 
ness, John  Cotton  conveniently  shifted  his  ground 
and  converted  his  sympathy  into  open  opposition. 
He  became  foremost  in  the  pursuit  of  the  heretics 
and  the  heresies  for  which  Mrs.  Hutchinson  was  re- 
sponsible. The  honored  teacher  for  whom  she  had 
left  her  English  home  to  cross  the  ocean  and  brave 
the  wilderness,  to  whom  she  had  looked  for  guid- 
ance and  sympathy  and  support,  had  abandoned 
her,  and  was  walking  in  the  path  laid  out  by  his 
brother  ministers.  He  was  somewhat  bespattered 
in  his  muddy  walk,  but  he  was  safe. 

When  spring  and  milder  weather  came,  Mrs. 
Hutchinson  was  to  leave  the  colony.  But,  before 
she  departed,  the  ministers  and  elders  had  prepared 
for  her  one  last  ordeal.  In  their  talks  with  her 
they  discovered  that  she  had  "  gross  errors  to  the 
number  of  thirty  or  thereabouts  ;  "  so  they  made  a 
list  of  these  "  errors  "  and  sent  it  in  the  form  of  an 
indictment  to  the  Boston  church.  Thereupon  the 
church  at  Boston  summoned  Mrs.  Hutchinson  to 
appear,  that  she  might  make  answer  to  the  accusa- 
tion and  receive  the  sentence  of  excommunication. 

Excommunication  was  spiritual  disinheritance. 
Anne  Hutchinson  was  an  irreligious  daughter,  and 
in  the  presence  of  her  brothers  and  sisters  of  the 
church  she  was  to  be  reprimanded  by  her  fathers, 
the  elders,  and  publicly  cast  out  as  an  unworthy 
member. 

Late  in  March,  then,  she  returned  to  her  Boston 


ANNE    HUTCHINSON.  19 

home.  There  were  few  friendly  faces  to  greet  her. 
Her  husband  and  brother  and  nearly  all  upon  whom 
she  might  rely  were  away  seeking  places  of  refuge 
against  their  coming  exile. 

The  spring  was  early  that  year  in  New  England, 
but  in  Boston  the  same  harsh  east  wind  gave  her 
a  chilling  reception.  The  Boston  meeting-house 
looked  gloomy  and  forbidding.  As  she  entered 
and  took  her  seat  and  looked  into  the  faces  of  the 
elders  and  ministers,  the  sweet  hope-breathing 
blossoms  of  early  spring  that  she  had  left  behind 
her  in  the  Roxbury  meadows  were  forgotten.  She 
felt  as  though  she  were  caught  between  the  hard, 
gray  walls  of  a  prison.  This  atmosphere  of  gray- 
ness  and  rigidity  pervaded  everything.  It  was  in 
the  dreariness  of  the  building,  the  stiffness  of  the 
furniture,  the  sombre  dress  and  intense  expression 
of  the  spectators,  and  the  severe,  unrelenting  looks 
of  the  clergy.  The  spirit  of  liberty  had  not  yet 
come  to  Boston-town. 

When  she  had  taken  the  place  assigned  her,  one 
of  the  elders  rose,  called  her  by  name,  and  read  the 
list  of  twenty-nine  heretical  opinions  for  which  she 
was  called  to  account.  After  the  reading  of  this 
indictment  Mrs.  Hutchinson  scanned  the  faces  of 
her  inquisitors. 

"  By  what  precept  of  holy  writ,"  she  demanded, 
a  tremor  of  indignation  creeping  into  her  voice, 
"  did  the  elders  of  the  church  come  to  me  in  my 
place  of  confinement  pretending  that  they  sought 


20      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

light,  when  in  reality  they  came  to  entrap  and 
betray  me?" 

After  thus  accusing  them  of  double-dealing,  she 
went  on  to  declare  that  the  twenty-nine  "  gross 
errors  "  with  which  she  was  charged  were  really  the 
result  of  her  unjust  imprisonment.  She  defended 
her  heretical  opinions  with  spirit,  and  "  returned," 
so  it  was  alleged,  "  froward  speeches  to  some  who 
spake  to  her." 

From  ten  in  the  morning  until  late  in  the  day  a 
fire  of  texts  and  biblical  references  raged  with  a 
storm  of  queries  and  assertions,  and  when  evening 
fell  they  were  still  discussing  only  the  fourth  of  the 
twenty-nine  opinions.  Finally  the  people  began  to 
realize  that  they  were  both  hungry  and  tired.  The 
ministers,  in  spite  of  their  spiritual  office,  were  also 
conscious  of  hunger  and  fatigue.  I  fear  that  they 
grew  cross  with  this  headstrong  woman,  who  was 
able  to  out-talk  and  even  to  out-endure  them  all. 
So  they  decided  to  administer  a  stern  admonition 
to  this  obstinate  sister  who  would  not  be  convinced. 

The  announcement  of  a  public  reprimand  caused 
a  stir  in  the  audience,  and  two  young  men,  seated 
together  well  toward  the  pulpit,  seemed  especially 
excited.  The  younger  of  the  two  was  a  handsome 
fellow  with  a  certain  dignity  and  independence  of 
manner  that  suggested  Anne  Hutchinson.  The 
elder  was  of  the  sturdy,  stocky,  English  type  that 
tells  alike  of  firmness  and  fearlessness,  a  specimen 
of  real  English  grit. 


ANNE    HUTCHINSON.  21 

Scarcely  had  the  judges  decreed  a  public  repri- 
mand when  the  younger  of  the  two  sprang  to  his 
feet. 

"  By  what  rule,"  he  exclaimed  with  heat,  as  he 
faced  the  elders  and  the  clergy,  "  might  one  be 
guided  in  expressing  his  dissent  to  this  measure  ?  " 
'■  The  ministers  and  elders  looked  aghast  at  this 
audacious  boy  who  dared  to  question  their  deci- 
sion. In  their  surprise  they  made  no  reply  to  the 
question  raised  by  young  Hutchinson,  for  he  who 
ventured  to  raise  a  demur  in  the  assembly  was 
Anne  Hutchinson's  own  son.  His  companion,  who 
was  Thomas  Savage,  Mrs.  Hutchinson's  son-in-law, 
then  rose  and  spoke  more  deliberately,  but  with 
equal  antagonism. 

"  My  mother  is  not  accused  of  any  heinous  act, 
but  only  of  an  opinion  held  by  her  upon  which  she 
desires  information  and  light  rather  than  peremp- 
torily to  hold  to  it.  I  cannot,  therefore,  see  why 
the  church  should  yet  proceed  to  admonish  her." 

At  these  still  more  daring  words  the  amazement 
among  clergy  and  elders  grew.  Then  Thomas 
Oliver,  one  of  the  elders,  remarked  that  it  was  "  a 
grief  to  his  spirit "  to  see  these  two  brethren  ques- 
tion the  proceedings  of  the  church,  and  he  advanced 
the  original  proposition  that  the  meeting  should 
show  its  displeasure  toward  them  by  including 
them  also  in  the  reprimand  decreed  against  Mis- 
tress Hutchinson,  "  in  order  that  the  church  might 
act  in  unison." 


22      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

Thereupon  this  novel  suggestion  for  silencing 
opposition  was  put  to  vote,  and,  as  no  one  dared 
to  disagree,  the  matter  was  carried  without  dis- 
sent. 

Then  John  Cotton  rose  and  delivered  a  very 
eloquent  admonition  to  Mrs.  Hutchinson  and  her 
two  sons,  asserting  that  these  two  young  men,  who 
had  dared  to  do  a  filial  act,  had  "  torn  the  very 
bowels  of  their  souls  by  hardening  their  mother  in 
sin." 

That  ended  the  session  for  the  day,  and  Anne 
Hutchinson  was  placed  in  charge  of  Mr.  Cotton 
until  the  next  church  meeting,  in  the  hope  that  he 
might  "overcome  her  troublesome  spirit." 

In  making  this  decision  those  in  authority  had 
not  overestimated  John  Cotton's  influence.  Indeed, 
he  alone  was  able  to  accomplish  what  the  united 
efforts  of  the  elders,  the  ministers,  and  the  magis- 
trates could  not.  He  induced  Anne  Hutchinson  to 
yield  to  his  persuasions  and  to  give  up  her  resist- 
ance to  authority. 

In  accordance  with  her  promise,  Mrs.  Hutchin- 
son, at  the  meeting  held  in  the  Boston  church  the 
week  following,  read,  before  a  crowded  house,  with 
bowed  head  and  in  a  low  tone,  her  public  recanta- 
tion. Such  meekness  of  spirit  is  surprising,  con- 
sidering her  former  bold  stand.  To  those  who  must 
admire  her  original  pluck  and  courage,  it  may  seem 
a  trifle  disappointing  to  have  her  yield  thus  to 
John  Cotton,  and  to  admit  herself  defeated  by  the 


tYv\«*OjV*V^ 


ANNE    HUTCHINSON.  23 

ministers.  Having  thus  acknowledged  herself 
beaten,  it  would,  at  least,  be  gratifying  to  learn 
that  the  ministers  rested  satisfied  with  their  tri- 
umph. 

But  they  did  not.  She  had  not  gone  far 
enough  in  her  humility  to  suit  them,  and  one 
among  them  brought  up  her  statement,  made  at 
the  earlier  meeting,  that  her  heretical  opinions  were 
the  result  of  her  close  imprisonment.  Some  of  the 
ministers  declared  this  statement  a  falsehood,  and  a 
discussion  arose  as  to  the  precise  meaning  of  Mrs. 
Hutchinson's  opinions.  The  discussion  trailed  off 
into  unintelligible  theories,  and  clergy,  magistrates, 
and  elders,  with  the  one  "  woman  transcendental- 
ist,"  are  lost  to  us  in  the  mists  and  mazes  of  inde- 
finable ideas  and  the  hazy  differences  of  theoretical 
thought. 

At  last,  beset  on  all  sides  by  men  hateful  to  her, 
and  mocked  at  by  revengeful  and  triumphant 
faces,  Anne  Hutchinson's  spirit  of  antagonism  re- 
turned. She  could  not  brinsr  herself  to  submit  to 
these  hostile  persecutors  as  she  had  submitted  in 
private  to  John  Cotton,  once  her  accepted  guide. 
With  the  flush  of  defiance  upon  her  face  she  turned 
upon  her  foes. 

"My  judgment  is  not  altered,  though  my  ex- 
pression alters,"  she  declared,  in  ringing  tones. 

At  once  the  assault  began  anew.  From  minis- 
ters, magistrates,  and  elders  came  a  fierce  storm  of 
abuse  and  a  torrent  of  impetuous  words. 


24      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

"  Her  repentance  is  on  paper,"  shouted  one  ;  "  but 
sure  her  repentance  is  not  in  her  face." 

"  You  have  stepped  out  of  your  place,"  cried 
another,  scandalized  by  what  he  deemed  her  un- 
womanliness.  "You  have  rather  been  a  husband 
than  a  wife,  and  a  preacher  than  a  hearer,  a  magis- 
trate than  a  subject,  and,  therefore,  you  have 
thought  to  carry  all  things  in  church  and  Common- 
wealth as  you  would." 

"I  cannot  but  acknowledge  that  the  Lord  is  just 
in  leaving  our  sister  to  pride  and  lying,"  said  one 
self-righteous  inquisitor.  "  I  look  upon  her  as  a 
dangerous  instrument  of  the  devil  raised  up  among 
us." 

"  God  hath  let  her  fall  into  a  manifest  lie ;  yea  ! 
to  make  a  lie,"  declared  another. 

"  Yea,"  cried  his  echo,  "  not  simply  to  drop  a  lie, 
but  to  make  a  lie,  to  maintain  a  lie  !  " 

During  the  onslaught  Anne  Hutchinson  sat 
stunned  and  motionless.  The  gray  walls  had 
closed  upon  her.  She  saw  it  was  useless  now  to 
expect  mercy.  Only  once  do  we  hear  her  voice, 
and  then  in  an  appeal  for  the  sympathy  she  most 
craved. 

"  Our  teacher  knows  my  judgment,"  she  said, 
turning  toward  John  Cotton.  "  I  never  kept  my 
judgment  from  him." 

But  there  was  no  response  from  her  teacher. 
John  Cotton  had  abandoned  her  as  unreclaimable. 

Then  came  the  hour  of  Parson  Wilson's  triumph. 


ANNE    HUTCHINSON.  25 

To  him  fell  the  lot  of  pronouncing  the  sentence  of 
excommunication. 

"  Are  ye  all  of  one  mind  that  our  sister  here  be 
cast  out?  "  he  demanded. 

Their  silence  was  his  surest  answer.  And  then, 
in  the  voice  most  hateful  to  Anne  Hutchinson,  — 
that  of  the  Rev.  John  Wilson,  —  came  the  terrible 
words  that  still  sear  the  story  of  the  old  Bay  State. 

"  Thereupon,  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  in  the  name  of  the  church,"  he  declared, 
"  I  do  not  only  pronounce  you  worthy  to  be  cast 
out,  but  I  do  cast  you  out;  and  in  the  name  of 
Christ  I  do  deliver  you  up  to  Satan,  that  you  may 
learn  no  more  to  blaspheme,  to  seduce,  and  to  lie ; 
and  I  do  account  you,  from  this  time  forth,  to  be  a 
heathen  and  a  publican,  and  so  to  be  held  by  all 
the  brethren  and  sisters  of  the  congregation,  and 
of  others ;  therefore  I  command  you  in  the  name  of 
Christ  Jesus,  and  of  this  church,  to  withdraw  your- 
self, as  a  leper,  out  of  the  congregation." 

As  Anne  Hutchinson  in  obedience  to  the  mandate 
of  her  judges  passed  down  the  aisle  and  out  from 
the  hushed  and  horrified  meeting,  there  was  but 
one  who  dared  to  rise  and  walk  beside  her.  It  was 
the  woman  who  had  been  her  follower  and  friend, 
young  Mary  Dyer,  who,  at  a  later  day,  was  to  feel 
the   fatal  rigor   of  Puritan  Boston's  "  discipline." 

The  two  women  walked  to  the  door.  There 
some  one,  steeped  in  self-righteousness,  said,  "  The 
Lord  sanctify  this  unto  you." 


26      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

Mrs.  Hutchinson  turned  her  clear  and  steadfast 
gaze  upon  the  speaker. 

"  The  Lord  judges  not  as  man  judges,"  she  re- 
plied. "  Better  to  be  cast  out  of  the  church  than 
to  deny  Christ." 

The  Massachusetts  records  say  that  Mrs.  Anne 
Hutchinson  was  banished  on  account  of  her  reve- 
lations and  excommunicated  for  a  lie.  They  do 
not  say  that  she  was  too  brilliant,  too  ambitious, 
and  too  progressive  for  the  ministers  and  magis- 
trates of  the  colony.  But  the  fact  remains  that 
she  was.  And  while  it  is  only  fair  to  the  rulers  of 
the  colony  to  admit  that  any  element  of  disturb- 
ance or  sedition,  at  that  time,  was  a  menace  to  the 
welfare  of  the  colony,  and  that  Anne  Hutchinson's 
voluble  tongue  was  a  dangerous  one,  it  is  certain 
that  the  ministers  were  jealous  of  her  power  and 
feared  her  leadership. 

It  is,  however,  a  consolation  to  know  that  Mrs. 
Hutchinson's  own  family  and  friends  did  not  agree 
with  the  harsh  judgment  of  the  clergy  and  magis- 
trates of  Massachusetts  Bay. 

They  seemed  to  have  been  able  to  put  up  with 
whatever  peculiarities  may  have  been  hers.  Per- 
haps her  husband  was,  as  Winthrop  asserted,  a  man 
of  "weak  parts,"  but  even  weak  men  have  been 
known  to  complain  upon  occasion.  This  Mr. 
Hutchinson  never  did.  He  shared  his  wife's  ex- 
communication and  banishment  without  a  murmur 
against  her,  so  far  as  we  can  find.     He   spoke  of 


ANNE    HUTCHINSON.  27 

lier  to  certain  messengers  from  the  Boston  church 
as  "a  dear  saint  and  servant  of  God."  Indeed, 
he  must  have  been  a  man  of  some  force  and  abil- 
ity, for  he  died  a  magistrate  of  the  Rhode  Island 
colony,  to  which  he  and  his  family  had  departed. 

It  is  a  relief  to  come  upon  that  one  "  dear  saint " 
of  William  Hutchinson's,  after  such  clerical  terms  of 
abuse  as  "  breeder  of  heresies,"  "  American  Jezebel," 
and  "instrument  of  Satan."  It  also  speaks  well  for 
the  domestic  felicity  of  the  Hutchinson  family. 

Their  home  in  Rhode  Island,  where  Roger  Will- 
iams welcomed  them,  was  broken  up  in  1642  by  the 
death  of  William  Hutchinson.  Then,  with  the 
remaining  members  of  her  family,  Mistress  Anne 
sought  a  refuge  still  farther  from  the  influence  of 
the  hostile  Bostonians  and  made  her  home  in  the 
outskirts  of  the  Manhattan  colony,  among  the 
Dutch,  at  what  is  now  Pelham  Manor  near  New 
Rochelle,  where  Hutchinson's  creek  and  a  tongue 
of  land  still  known  as  "  Anne's  Hook  "  remain  as 
her  only  memorials. 

She  was  not  long  a  resident  of  that  quiet  land, 
for  its  peace  was  soon  turned  into  savage  war.  In 
August,  1643,  "  the  Indians  set  upon  them  and  slew 
her  and  all  her  family,"  except  one  child  who  was 
taken  captive.  It  was  a  sad  blotting-out  of  a  brill- 
iant and  helpful  possibility. 

Of  course  Mrs.  Hutchinson's  enemies  among  the 
Massachusetts  Bay  ministers  made  of  her  terrible 
fate  a  powerful  warning  to  schismatics  and  wrong- 


28      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

doers.  Her  death,  so  they  declared,  was  God's 
judgment  on  one  led  away  by  the  wiles  of  Satan. 

Our  Puritan  forefathers  had  peculiar  notions  of 
justice,  retribution,  right  and  wrong.  But  we,  in 
the  light  of  two  and  a  half  centuries  of  progress, 
can  see  in  Anne  Hutchinson's  death  no  such  man- 
ifestation of  an  angry  God,  but  simply  the  final 
tragedy  of  her  life. 

Anne  Hutchinson's  part  in  the  early  history  of 
Massachusetts  is  a  sad  one  —  a  series  of  disappoint- 
ments, defeats,  and  disasters.  Her  story  is  shad- 
owed by  the  gloom  of  a  New  England  wilderness 
and  the  equal  dreariness  of  the  stern  Puritan  laws. 
It  is  darkened  by  the  clouds  of  persecution,  excom- 
munication, and  banishment,  by  the  desertion  of 
friends  and  the  horrors  of  an  Indian  massacre. 

But  she  stands  out  as  one  of  the  most  notable 
and  picturesque  figures  on  the  first  pages  of  Ameri- 
can history  —  an  intellectual  force,  when  intellectu- 
ality was  esteemed  the  prerogative  of  the  magistrate 
and  the  minister;  a  woman  who  could  not  be 
frightened  into  an  abandonment  of  her  faith ;  a 
Avoman  Avho  had  more  wit,  more  daring,  and  more 
real  independence  than  the  clergy  and  rulers  of  the 
State.  Her  life  may  be  regarded  as  a  prophecy  of 
that  larger  liberty  for  which  America  has  stood  for 
generations. 

About  her  story  there  hangs  the  mystery  of  a 
career  little  known  before  she  appeared  as  a  dis- 
turber   of    Boston's    theological   security,    and   as 


ANNE    HUTCHINSON.  29 

little  known  after  her  dramatic  struggle  with  the 
authorities  of  the  Bay  colony.  In  recalling  the 
trials  and  persecutions  she  suffered  on  that  occasion, 
it  is  a  satisfaction  to  find  that  time  brought  its  own 
revenge,  and  that  a  descendant  of  the  woman  whom 
Massachusetts  cast  out,  a  Hutchinson,  came  with 
the  seal  of  kingly  authority  to  rule  the  colony  as  its 
last  royal  governor. 


II. 

FRANCES  MARY  JACQUELINE  LA  TOUR, 

THE  DEFENDER  OF  FORT  LA  TOUR. 


Born  in  France,  about  1600. 

Died  at  Port  Royal,  Nova  Scotia,  1645. 


"  A  woman  who  by  her  heroism  and  misfortunes  was  destined 
to  win  romantic  immortality  in  our  annals." — Charles  G.  D. 
Roberts. 

Upon  a  headland  overlooking  the  Bay  of  Fundy 
and  the  mouth  of  the  river  St.  John,  where  to-day 
we  see  the  outskirts  of  a  flourishing  city,  there 
once  stood  a  sturdy  stronghold  known  as  Fort  La 
Tour.  Behind  high  palisades  and  four  stalwart 
bastions  lived  the  master  of  the  fort,  Sieur  Charles 
St.  Etreinee  de  la  Tour,  as  supreme  in  authority 
as  any  feudal  lord  across  the  sea.  He  was  secure 
from  all  dangers  of  the  wilderness  in  his  stone  for- 
tress, with  twenty  cannon  for  ordnance  and  a  little 
band  of  Frenchmen  and  red  allies  for  retainers. 

Within  his  fort  a  certain  rude  elegance  prevailed, 
transported  from  the  castles  of  old  France,  with 
some  few  heirlooms  and  ancestral  treasures.  At 
his  board  there  was  always  an  abundance  ;  fish  and 

31 


32      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

game  in  their  season,  fresh  from  the  sea  and  inland 
streams  and  the  great  forests  of  fir  and  balsam. 
And  the  yearly  ship  from  France  brought  such 
luxuries  and  comforts  as  could  not  be  obtained  in 
the  wilds  of  Acady. 

Charles  La  Tour  was  a  soldier-trader.  He  kept 
up  a  course  of  military  training  among  his  men, 
and  he  trafficked  with  his  neighbors  in  furs  and 
fish.  To  his  stronghold  came  Indian  hunters  from 
the  St.  Lawrence  and  the  rivers  of  Maine,  English 
fishers  from  Pemaquid  and  Monhegan,  and  mer- 
chants from  the  distant  colony  of  Massachusetts 
Bay.  Cold  evenings  in  the  long  northern  winters, 
stern-visaged  men  gathered  round  his  blazing 
hearth  and  smoked  the  pipe  of  peace  while  they 
told  tales  of  Indian  raids,  shipwrecks,  and  adven- 
tures with  the  beasts  of  the  forest. 

In  character  La  Tour  was  a  bold,  unscrupulous, 
enterprising  man,  hardened  by  his  wild  life  of  the 
woods ;  in  business  he  was  shrewd,  growing  rich 
on  his  furs  and  fish ;  in  politics  he  was  firm,  under 
all  changes  of  government  and  kings  at  home,  un- 
wavering in  his  allegiance  to  Charles  La  Tour  and 
Charles  La  Tour's  interests  ;  in  religion  he  was  like 
Malvolio,  a  "  time-pleaser," — he  called  himself  a 
Huguenot  except  when  it  suited  his  purpose  to 
be  a  Jesuit.  He  was,  indeed,  a  very  earthly  man, 
with  earthly  ambitions,  earthly  loves,  and  earthly 
hates.  And  withal,  he  was  a  finished  courtier.  In 
spite  of  his  rough  life,  he  showed  the  stamp  of  his 


FRANCES  MARY  JACQUELINE  LA   TOUR.  33 

lordly  ancestry.  He  was  said  to  be  a  man  of  "  pres- 
ence "  and  "persuasion." 

La  Tour  did  not  reign  alone.  About  1625  he 
had  married  Frances  Mary  Jacqueline,  who  has 
been  described  as  "a  remarkable  woman  or  an 
uncommon  man."  She  was  a  creature  of  splendid 
spirit  and  energy.  The  blood  of  the  Huguenots 
who  fought  for  religious  liberty  at  Ivry  and  La 
Rochelle  was  in  her  veins,  and  her  hard  life  in  the 
wilderness  had  developed  her  powers  of  masculine 
courage  and  endurance.  She  became  her  husband's 
able  partner  in  the  management  of  his  business 
and  the  defence  of  his  rights  and  his  home. 

Madame  La  Tour  led  a  busy  life.  She  helped  in 
superintending  the  building  of  forts  and  the  setting 
of  nets,  and  when  there  was  need  she  could  spear 
the  salmon  and  the  cod  or  bring  down  the  partridge 
and  the  quail.  Her  hand  was  steady  and  her  aim 
was  sure.  She  would  make  a  good  soldier  when 
occasion  came;  so  thought  all  who  knew  the  wife 
of  Lieutenant-governor  La  Tour.  And  the  sol- 
dier husband  admired  his  soldier  wife  and  gave 
her  the  independence  and  responsibilities  of  a 
man. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  was  "a  kind  of 
Amazon,"  she  was  a  woman  of  "  gentle  breeding," 
according  to  the  old  records.  The  softer,  more 
feminine  side  of  her  nature  showed  in  her  life  at 
home,  the  time  spent  within  the  four  walls  of  her 
fortress.     She  prayed  in  her  chapel,  looked  after 


34      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

her  little  children,  and  taught  her  Indian  people. 
She  baked  fine  bread  and  sweetmeats  for  her 
husband  and  his  retainers,  and  when  the  traders 
and  trappers  came  she  served  them  with  wine  and 
meat.  But  she  did  not  shudder  when  they  told 
their  stories  of  peril  and  bloodshed.  She  was  too 
much  the  soldier  for  any  "  womanish  weakness." 

At  different  periods  her  husband  had  a  trading 
post  on  the  Penobscot,  interests  in  the  Port  Royal 
Colony,  and  a  fort  on  the  bold  cliffs  of  Cape  Sable. 
So  Madame  La  Tour  gained  an  intimate  knowl- 
edge of  large  tracts  of  territory  in  New  Brunswick, 
Nova  Scotia,  and  our  own  State  of  Maine. 

There  comes  a  picture  of  this  woman  of  steady 
poise,  firm  look,  and  clear,  far-seeing  eyes,  following 
the  paths  made  by  the  wild  beasts  over  the 
mountains,  gliding  through  smooth  waters  in  her 
birch  canoe,  or  sailing  in  her  swift  shallop  across 
the  waters  of  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  the  mists  clinging 
to  her  mast  and  the  spray  dashing  across  her  bows. 
She  grew  to  love  Acadia,  its  wildness  and  its 
freedom.  In  its  vast  solitude  familiar  sights  and 
sounds  filled  her  with  deep  content,  the  notes  of 
blackbird,  thrush,  and  woodpigeon,  the  waves 
dancing  in  sunlight  across  the  bay,  the  trout 
shining  bright  and  silvery  under  the  clear  waters 
of  the  river,  and  the  rustling  of  the  rabbit  in  the 
bushes. 

She  and  her  practical  husband  Charles  La  Tour 
would   have  lived  happy,  prosperous,  and  safe  in 


FRANCES  MARY  JACQUELINE  LA   TOUR.   35 

their  romantic  woodland  home,  had  it  not  been  for 
the  rival  chief  over  the  bay.  On  a  clear  day  La 
Tour  and  his  lady  could  distinguish  a  line  of  blue 
hills  across  the  water,  directly  opposite,  and  they 
knew  that  behind  those  misty  heights,  in  the  colony 
of  Port  Royal,  dwelt  their  bitterest  enemy,  Seigneur 
D'Aulnay  Charnise,  a  Jesuit,  a  man  as  ambitious 
and  daring  as  La  Tour  himself. 

It  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  that 
La  Tour  and  Charnise  should  have  quarrelled. 
They  both  held  commissions  from  the  French  gov- 
ernment as  the  king's  lieutenant  in  Acadia.  They 
ruled  in  the  same  land  and  engaged  in  the  same 
trade.     Each  was  in  the  way  of  the  other. 

Charnise  was  the  aggressive  one.  He  recog- 
nized the  advantages  of  La  Tour's  position  in  his 
post  on  the  St.  John,  and  he  "  wrathfully  "  made 
up  his  mind  that  he  himself  would  have  that  fort. 

During  their  boyhood  and  young  manhood, 
while  La  Tour  had  lived  a  life  of  deprivation  and 
hardship  in  the  Acadian  woods  with  the  French 
adventurer  Biencourt,  Charnise  had  been  growing 
in  the  knowledge  of  diplomacy  at  the  French 
court.  La  Tour  was  almost  a  stranger  in  France, 
but  Charnise  was  a  man  of  influence  there  and  a 
favorite  with  Richelieu.  So  when  Charnise  set  about 
working  the  ruin  of  his  rival  he  began  by  trying  to 
damage  La  Tour's  reputation  with  the  French 
government.  At  first  he  met  with  small  success, 
but  he  was  so  persistent  and  so  perfect  in  artifice 


36      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

that  he  finally  got  what  he  had  been  seeking  —  the 
king's  order  for  La  Tonr's  arrest. 

La  Tour,  however,  was  not  easily  managed.  He 
would  not  allow  himself  to  be  bullied  into  sub- 
mission by  Charnise*,  Richelieu,  the  king,  and  the 
whole  French  court.  When  the  warrant  for  his 
seizure  was  nourished  in  his  face  he  felt  the  hilt  of 
his  sword,  looked  with  increasing  confidence  at 
his  cannon,  his  strong  walls,  his  faithful  soldiers, 
and  his  valiant  wife.  Then,  with  suave  insolence, 
he  smiled  into  the  face  of  his  enemy  and  refused 
to  be  arrested. 

And  Charnise,  who  at  the  time  had  not  suffi- 
cient force  to  attack  Fort  La  Tour,  was  obliged  to 
withdraw  for  the  present.  But  of  course  he  did  not 
fail  to  send  back  word  of  La  Tour's  defiance,  and 
in  a  short  time  he  was  again  in  France,  strengthen- 
ing himself  at  court  and  obtaining  assistance  for 
the  destruction  of  his  rival. 

Meanwhile  La  Tour,  a  commissionless  rebel, 
held  the  fort  for  no  king  but  La  Tour.  Yet,  with 
all  his  self-reliance  and  easy  optimism,  he  foresaw 
his  danger  in  the  coming  crisis.  Charnise,  of  him- 
self, was  not  at  all  formidable  in  his  eyes ;  but 
Charnise,  supported  by  the  whole  French  govern- 
ment, might  speedily  wipe  out  Fort  La  Tour,  its 
commander,  and  all  belonging  to  him.  La  Tour 
as  well  as  Charnise*  must  look  for  help  from  with- 
out. Naturally,  he  stood  no  chance  at  the  French 
court ;  but  there  was  his  wife's  Huguenot  city  of 


FRANCES  MARY  JACQUELINE  LA  TOUR.   37 

La  Kochelle,  and  there  were  his  neighbors,  the 
New  Englanders  ;  he  was  not  so  badly  off,  after  all. 
Considering  thus,  La  Tour  acted  accordingly  and 
sent  messengers  across  the  ocean  to  La  Rochelle  and 
down  the  coast  to  the  little  town  of  Boston. 
There  were  delays,  however,  and  Charnise  was 
prepared  for  the  attack  before  La  Tour  was  ready 
to  resist  him. 

One  cloudy  spring  morning  La  Tour  and  his 
wife  were  within  their  fort  talking  hopefully  of 
the  expected  arrival  of  the  ship  "  Clement "  with 
supplies  and  reinforcements  from  La  Rochelle, 
when  the  fog  suddenly  lifted  from  the  bay  and 
disclosed  three  ships  and  several  "  smaller  crafts  " 
gliding  quietly  into  the  harbor.  There  was  no 
doubt  in  the  minds  of  Monsieur  and  Madame  La 
Tour  as  to  who  commanded  the  fleet.  They  knew 
that  they  had  now  to  deal  with  Seigneur  D'Aulnay 
Charnise  in  earnest. 

Like  lightning  came  La  Tour's  commands.  Be- 
fore Charnise  had  disembarked  his  five  hundred 
men  every  soldier  in  Fort  La  Tour  was  at  his  post, 
among  them  Lady  La  Tonr  dauntlessly  directing 
the  cannonading.  And  when  Charnise,  at  the 
head  of  his  troops,  made  a  swift  charge  up  the 
embankment  he  was  met  with  a  fierce  volley  of 
shot  from  bastion  and  palisade.  The  stone  walls 
of  the  fort  received  the  fire  of  the  besiegers  in 
serene  contempt.  Charnise  was  obliged  to  retire 
in  a  passion  and  resort  to  slower  methods. 


38      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

He  straightway  proceeded  to  blockade  fort  and 
harbor.  The  outlaw  chieftain  and  his  amazon  wife 
should  submit  to  Seigneur  D'Aulnay  Charnise*  or 
starve.  So  he  thought  to  himself  as  he  paced  the 
deck  of  his  ship  and  waited  impatiently  for  hunger 
to  do  its  work. 

Meanwhile,  the  "  Clement "  arrived  from  La 
Rochelle  ;  but,  on  account  of  the  blockade,  it  could 
not  enter  the  harbor.  At  the  fort  they  spied  it 
through  a  glass  and  signalled  to  it.  Then,  one 
moonless  night,  La  Tour  and  madame  stepped  into 
their  shallop  and  slipped  quietly  out  with  the  tide. 
The  pines  and  cliffs  of  the  shore  were  left  behind 
and  the  sound  of  men's  voices  on  the  ships  of  the 
besieger  died  away  as  their  boat  glided  on  toward 
the  "  Clement."  They  were  soon  upon  its  deck, 
setting  sail  for  Boston,  and  before  dawn  the  ex- 
governor  and  his  wife  were  beyond  the  sight  and 
power  of  their  enemy,  Charnise\ 

On  the  pleasant  June  afternoon  when  the  "  Cle- 
ment "  arrived  in  Boston  harbor,  Dr.  Cotton  was 
writing  at  his  study  window,  and  Governor  Win- 
throp  was  in  his  garden  on  his  island  with  "  his 
wife  and  his  sons  and  his  son's  wife."  It  was  the 
year  1643,  when  the  town  of  Boston  was  very  quiet 
and  peaceful.  Young  Harry  Vane  was  no  longer 
there  with  his  impulses  and  impetuosities,  nor 
brilliant  Anne  Hutchinson  with  her  "  Antinomian 
heresies."  A  pleasant  calm  had  succeeded  the 
storm  aroused   by   these    two   vehement  persons, 


FRANCES  MARY  JACQUELINE  LA   TOUR.   39 

and  things  were  going  smoothly,  and,  in  the  minds 
of  some  worldly-minded  folk,  rather  dully  in  the 
little  Puritan  "  city." 

At  the  moment  of  La  Tour's  coming,  Dr.  Cot- 
ton was  nibbling  his  quill  and  thinking  hard  about 
theology,  and  Governor  Winthrop  was  bending 
with  some  pride  over  his  bed  of  flourishing  carrots 
and  cabbages.  The  notion  of  French  ships  and 
French  invaders  was  far  from  their  thoughts.  Cas- 
tle Island  was  deserted,  and  the  "  Clement "  sa- 
luted and  passed  by  without  receiving  answer. 

The  wife  of  Captain  Gibbons,  with  her  children, 
was  being  rowed  down  the  harbor  to  her  husband's 
farm  on  Pullen  Point,  the  Winthrop  of  to-day, 
when  she  suddenly  descried  the  ship  with  French 
colors  flying  from  the  mast,  and  French  soldiers 
crowding  the  deck.  The  poor  woman  was  much 
frightened  and  implored  her  rowers  to  hasten  and 
land  at  the  governor's  garden,  which,  by  the  way, 
is  the  present  site  of  Fort  Winthrop  in  Boston 
harbor.  But  one  of  the  "  Clement's  "  crew  had 
already  recognized  Mistress  Gibbons  as  an  old 
acquaintance.  So  La  Tour  manned  his  shallop 
and  was  hurrying  after  her  to  speak  with  her. 
And  as  Winthrop  and  his  family  looked  up  from 
their  carrots  and  cabbages,  they  beheld  a  badly 
scared  woman-neighbor  flying  before  a  boatload  of 
much  amused  French  adventurers.  It  was  a  rude 
awakening  from  agricultural  dreams. 

Here  was  Boston  at  the  mercy  of  the  Acadian 


40      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

governor.  "  He  might,"  as  Winthrop  affirmed, 
"  have  gone  and  spoiled  Boston  and  taken  the 
ships  and  sailed  away  without  danger  of  resist- 
ance." But  instead,  he  landed  quite  peaceably, 
exchanged  "  salutations  "  with  the  governor,  and 
told  the  cause  of  his  coming  —  that  the  "  Cle- 
ment "  had  been  sent  to  him  from  France,  but  his 
old  enemy,  Charnise,  had  blockaded  the  river  St* 
John  so  that  she  could  not  get  in,  and  that  he  had, 
accordingly,  slipped  out  of  the  river  in  a  shallop 
by  night  and  come  to  ask  help  from  the  "  good, 
kind  people  of  Boston."  La  Tour  spoke  with  his 
usual  powers  of  "  persuasion,"  and  Winthrop  was 
impressed  with  his  good  will  toward  the  Puritan 
colony. 

The  La  Tours  and  Mistress  Gibbons  took  tea 
with  the  Winthrops  that  night.  The  quiet  do- 
mestic scene  around  the  supper  table  must  have 
brought  a  feeling  of  pleasant  restfulness  to  Ma- 
dame La  Tour,  whose  ear  had  become  so  accus- 
tomed to  noises  of  war  and  turmoil.  Without 
the  open  window  all  was  still,  and  within,  the 
sweet,  delicate  face  of  the  governor's  wife,  Mar- 
garet Winthrop,  was  smiling  cordially  over  the 
teacups,  and  the  dignified  host  was  gravely  atten- 
tive to  the  wants  of  his  guests.  The  French 
woman  had  not  been  in  so  homelike  an  atmos- 
phere since  the  days  of  her  girlhood  at  La  Rochelle. 
To  find  herself  once  more  in  the  company  of  so  re- 
fined a  gentleman  and  gentlewoman  as  John  Win- 


FRANCES  MARY  JACQUELINE  LA   TOUR.  41 

throp  and  his  wife,  must  have  been  a  satisfaction 
to  this  woman  of  equally  "  gentle  "  breeding. 

Madame's  husband,  we  may  be  sure,  was  as  cheer- 
ful and  suave  as  usual.  All  through  supper  he 
talked  like  an  ardent  Protestant.  Madame,  too, 
spoke  of  her  Huguenot  faith,  but  with  this  differ- 
ence, —  she  was  sincere.  La  Tour  showed  great 
interest  in  his  host's  vegetables,  and  praised  his 
government  of  the  colony.  He  was,  indeed,  gen- 
erally agreeable  and  entertaining.  And  madame 
also  was  charming  and  delighted  the  company  with 
lively  tales  of  her  adventures  in  the  forest  and  as 
a  soldier  in  her  husband's  fort.  Margaret  Win- 
throp's  eyes  opened  wide  with  wonder  as  she  lis- 
tened to  the  daring  woman.  She  would  not  have 
liked  to  change  places  with  Madame  La  Tour. 

In  the  meantime  news  of  the  arrival  of  a  French 
ship  spread  through  the  town.  The  people  were 
alarmed  for  their  governor,  and  after  supper  three 
shallops  filled  with  armed  men  came  to  escort 
him  to  his  "city"  home.  But  Winthrop,  as  we 
know,  was  confident  of  La  Tour's  friendliness,  and 
sending  Mistress  Gibbons  home  in  his  own  boat 
he  sailed  up  to  the  town  in  La  Tour's  shallop. 

On  landing,  the  La  Tours  were  escorted  by  the 
governor  and  a  guard  to  their  lodgings  at  the 
home  of  Captain  Gibbons.  The  captain's  house 
stood  on  what  is  now  the  east  side  of  Washington 
street,  near  the  foot  of  Cornhill.  It  was  on  a  bend 
of  the  cove,  and  as  Madame  La  Tour  woke  each 


42      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

day  she  could  look  out  upon  the  harbor  with  its 
green  marshes  and  islands  glowing  in  the  morning 
light. 

Monsieur  and  Madame  La  Tour  stayed  in  Boston 
until  the  fourteenth  of  July.  This  visit  of  the 
feudal  chief  and  his  wife  greatly  enlivened  the 
Puritan  town.  The  governor  and  magistrates  de- 
bated long  and  heatedly  the  matter  of  aiding  La 
Tour.  Some  were  of  the  opinion  that  it  was 
wrong  for  Christians  to  have  to  do  in  any  way 
with  "  idolaters  "  —  these  discerning  Puritans  had 
their  doubts  as  to  La  Tour's  sincerity  in  Prot- 
estantism,—  while  others  declared  it  was  always 
Christian  to  help  a  brother  in  distress.  As  was 
their  custom  in  all  perplexities,  they  consulted 
their  Bible,  and  quoted  largely  from  the  examples 
of  Jehoshaphat,  Ahab,  Ahaziah,  Josias,  the  King  of 
Babylon,  Solomon,  and  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  and 
precedents  of  similar  character,  "  the  relevancy  of 
which  is  not  very  apparent." 

And  while  these  discussions  were  going  on  La 
Tour  was  allowed  to  land  his  men  "  in  small  com- 
panies that  our  women  might  not  be  affrighted  by 
them."  Then  there  were  reviews  of  the  French 
and  English  troops  on  the  Common,  which  the 
women  attended,  some  rather  fearfully  and  others, 
like  Madame  La  Tour,  with  spirit  and  enthusiasm. 
Madame  was  probably  proud  of  those  French  "  mili- 
tary movements  "  that  so  interested  the  governor 
and  magistrates, 


FRANCES  MARY  JACQUELINE  LA   TOUR.   43 

During  their  jaunt  in  Boston  the  La  Tours 
were  dined  and  entertained  courteously,  and  we 
may  truly  say  that  they  were  well  received  by  the 
"  first  families  "  of  Boston.  But  the  other  towns 
of  the  colony  disapproved,  and  letters  poured  in 
on  the  governor  u  charging  sin  upon  the  conscience 
in  all  these  proceedings,"  and  one  "judicious" 
parson  predicted  that  before  Boston  was  rid  of  the 
French  stranger,  blood  would  be  spilled  in  the 
streets. 

The  "  French  stranger,"  however,  behaved  ad- 
mirably. Winthrop  records  that  he  "came  duly 
to  our  church  meetings  and  always  accompanied 
the  governor  to  and  from  thence."  La  Tour  was 
a  sly  fellow.  He  knew  how  to  win  the  approval 
of  his  Boston  friends.  Of  what  was  he  thinking 
as  he  sat,  with  bowed  head  and  solemn  face,  under 
the  preaching  of  the  eloquent  Doctor  Cotton  ?  Not 
of  things  spiritual,  we  may  be  sure.  But  madame 
his  wife  was  certainly  a  good  Christian,  and  prob- 
ably treasured  some  of  the  good  doctor's  words  to 
her  dying  day. 

The  upshot  of  it  all  was  that  the  Bostonians,  too 
prudent  to  give  direct  aid  to  La  Tour,  allowed 
him  to  make  any  arrangements  he  could  with  the 
inhabitants  of  the  town  and  the  masters  of  the 
vessels  in  the  harbor.  So  he  hired  from  Captain 
Gibbons  and  Thomas  Hawkins  four  ships  with 
ordnance  and  fighting  men.  And  when  Monsieur 
and  Madame  La  Tour  set  sail  with  their  fleet  the 


44      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

dignitaries  of  Boston  escorted  them  to  the  wharf 
and  cheered  them  with  good  wishes.  It  was  quite 
evident  that  the  Frenchman  and  his  wife  were 
well  liked  by  their  Puritan  friends. 

All  this  time  Charnise  had  been  waiting  in  his 
ship  and  wondering  at  the  stern  stuff  of  which  his 
rival  was  made.  And  he  smiled  maliciously  as  he 
reflected  that  it  was  only  a  question  of  time.  In 
the  end  La  Tour  must  give  in. 

Suddenly  round  the  bend  in  the  shore  came  the 
fleet  of  five  ships.  On  the  deck  of  one  stood  La 
Tour  ready  for  fight.  Charnise"  then,  for  the  first 
time,  saw  that  his  enemy  had  escaped  him  and  that 
he  had  returned  revengeful  and  triumphant.  The 
outwitted  chief  did  not  make  a  trial  of  strength 
with  his  rival.  He  speedily  hoisted  sail  and  was 
off  for  Port  Royal.  And  behind  him  La  Tour  fol- 
lowed quickly.     The  tables  were  turned  indeed. 

Arrived  in  his  Pert  Royal  harbor,  Charmse*  ran 
his  ships  aground  and  he  and  his  men  fortified 
themselves  in  their  stronghold.  La  Tour  was  for 
making  a  united  attack  upon  Charnise's  fort  im- 
mediately, but  the  Boston  captains  did  not  share 
La  Tour's  hatred  for  his  rival  and  had  scruples 
about  carrying  the  war  into  the  enemy's  camp. 
However,  they  allowed  those  of  the  men  who 
wished,  to  volunteer,  and  a  charge  was  made  in 
which  three  men  fell  on  each  side. 

After  this  rather  fruitless  sally,  La  Tour  cap- 
tured a  pinnace  belonging  to  Charnise\     Upon  this 


FRANCES  MARY  JACQUELINE  LA   TOUR.  45 

event,  the  Puritan  conscience  seems  to  have  dis- 
appeared. The  Bostonians  gladly  "  went  halves  " 
with  La  Tour  and  his  Frenchmen  in  the  division 
of  booty  and,  before  the  close  of  the  day,  Charnise" 
had  lost  besides  his  three  men  a  boatload  of  valu- 
able moose  and  beaver  skins. 

La  Tour  had  done  his  rival  all  the  harm  he 
could  for  the  present,  and  returned  to  his  own 
fort  to  prepare  for  Charnise's  next  attack,  which 
he  knew  must  come  soon.  Although  he  parted 
from  the  Boston  captains  with  a  show  of  friendli- 
ness, he  cherished  a  secret  grudge  against  them  for 
spoiling  his  victory  by  refusing  to  take  part  in  the 
attack.  But  then,  what  could  he  expect  ?  They 
were  only  Englishmen,  he  reflected ;  his  wife's 
people,  the  French  Huguenots,  would  serve  him 
better.  And  Madame  La  Tour  was  forthwith 
despatched  to  La  Rochelle.  La  Tour  relied  on 
his  wife's  cleverness.  He  felt  that  she  would 
manage  for  him  better  than  any  other  messenger 
he  could  send. 

What  must  have  been  the  thoughts  of  Madame 
La  Tour  as  she  journeyed  over  the  summer  sea  to 
La  Rochelle?  She  had  left  France  a  girl.  She 
was  returning  after  many  years  to  her  old  home. 
Recollections  crowded  upon  her ;  memories  that, 
for  fear  of  discontent,  she  had  tried  to  forget  dur- 
ing her  life  in  the  shaggy  forests.  As  she  looked 
into  the  face  of  the  sky,  so  blue  by  day,  by  night 
so  bright  with  stars,  and  as  she  listened  to  the  rush 


46      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

of  the  water  against  her  boatside  and  smelt  the  salt 
of  the  sea,  she  saw  the  narrow,  winding  streets  of 
La  Rochelle,  the  familiar  houses  with  the  quaint 
carving  on  the  doorways,  and  the  faces  of  her 
childhood's  friends.  She  would  be  glad  to  tread 
the  streets  once  more,  to  enter  the  remembered 
halls,  and  feel  the  welcoming  hand-shake. 

But  she  would  find  France  changed  to  her. 
Though  her  own  heart  was  loyal,  enemies  had 
sprung  up  ;  men  who  called  her  husband  rebel  and 
traitor,  who  hated  her  as  they  hated  him.  Her 
thoughts  went  back  to  her  husband  and  her 
children,  and  the  country  she  was  leaving.  Acadia, 
not  France,  was  her  homeland  now,  the  place  of 
vast  forests  and  clear  waters  and  jagged  cliffs, 
where  she  had  labored  and  suffered  and  enjoyed  so 
much.  And,  like  a  good  Huguenot,  she  knelt  and 
prayed  that  she  might  succeed  in  bringing  aid  to 
the  fort  that  was  her  only  home. 

Her  worst  enemy  was  in  France  before  her. 
Charnise  was  already  at  the  French  court,  strength- 
ening his  interests,  and  when  he  heard  of  the 
arrival  of  La  Tour's  wife  he  declared  that  madame 
was  as  big  a  traitor  as  her  husband  and  forthwith 
procured  a  warrant  for  her  arrest. 

It  was  but  a  hurried  meeting  and  parting 
Madame  La  Tour  had  with  her  Ilochellois  friends. 
She  was  warned  that  Charnise  was  on  her  track  and 
she  was  forced  to  flee  to  England.  She  started  on 
her  way  again,  and  soon  all  that  she  could  discern 


FRANCES  MARY  JACQUELINE  LA   TOUR.   47 

of  the  French  land  she  had  so  longed  to  revisit 
was  the  low  regular  line  of  the  coast,  and  the  shore 
birds  who  were  following  the  boat  out  to  sea. 

As  soon  as  she  reached  England  she  quickly  set 
about  her  business  and  freighted  a  London  ship 
with  provisions  and  munitions  of  war  for  Fort  La 
Tour ;  but  first  of  all  she  wrote  to  her  husband 
explaining  the  delay,  telling  of  the  danger  she  had 
been  in  from  Charnise,  and  expressing  ardent  long- 
ings to  be  back  at  the  fort  with  the  necessary  sup- 
plies. As  she  walked  about  among  the  London 
wharves  and  warehouses,  making  her  arrangements 
with  Alderman  Berkley,  the  owner  of  the  ship,  and 
Bailey,  the  captain,  her  thoughts  were  continually 
with  the  little  garrison  at  the  mouth  of  the  St. 
John.  Perhaps  Charnise  was  already  besieging  it, 
and,  with  this  reflection,  she  implored  a  speedy 
departure. 

At  last  she  was  off.  The  sounds  of  creaking 
boom  and  straining  timbers  were  in  her  ear,  and 
the  breath  of  the  sea  was  in  her  face.  It  w^as  good 
to  realize  that  she  was  bound  for  home,  and  that 
she  was  returning  with  help  for  the  struggling  fort. 
Roger  Williams,  the  founder  of  the  Providence 
plantations,  was  on  board  with  her.  He  had  se- 
cured his  charter,  and  was  carrying  it  back  to  his 
colony.  One  can  fancy  Madame  La  Tour  in  con- 
versation with  the  Rhode  Island  governor:  Their 
liberal  ideas  must  ha^e  made  them  congenial  com- 
panions.  We  can  imagine  them  discussing  English 


48      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

and  French  politics,  smiling  over  the  eccentricities 
of  their  Massachusetts  friends,  and  discussing  the 
possibilities  of  the  American  colonies. 

And  while  they  were  thus  engaged,  Bailey,  their 
captain,  was  looking  well  to  his  own  interests,  and 
carrying  them  far  out  of  their  course  in  order  that 
he  might  trade  with  the  Indians  and  grow  rich. 
After  much  dallying  of  this  sort,  and  expostulation 
on  the  part  of  the  passengers,  the  ship  at  length 
entered  the  Bay  of  Funcly,  where,  to  Madame  La 
Tour,  the  waves  were  higher  and  the  spray  Salter 
than  anywhere  else  in  the  world.  Already  she 
could  almost  see  the  surf  breaking  on  the  head- 
lands of  her  rock-bound  home,  and  fancied  she  heard 
the  deep  roar  and  backward  rush  of  the  sea  as  it 
struck  the  shore  and  receded. 

She  was  not,  however,  destined  to  realize  her 
dreams  of  home  so  soon.  Through  the  mist  a  ship 
was  making  toward  them.  Upon  the  deck  were 
French  soldiers  and  Jesuit  priests.  In  one  quick 
glance,  Madame  La  Tour  had  recognized  the  figure 
of  her  enemy  standing  near  the  wheel.  The  next 
moment  she  was  hidden  in  the  hold  of  the  London 
vessel,  listening  with  dread  to  Charnis^'s  inquiries 
concerning  her  ship  and  her  captain's  equivocating 
replies.  Bailey  was  assuring  the  Frenchman  that 
he  was  bound  direct  for  Boston,  and  that  there  was 
no  French  blood  aboard.  Charnise,  finally,  was  sat- 
isfied and  let  the  ship  pass.  Then  madame  emerged 
from  her    hiding-place   and   laughed  with    Roger 


FRANCES  MARY  JACQUELINE  LA   TOUR.  49 

Williams  and  the  captain  over  her  narrow  escape 
and  the  trick  they  had  played  upon  Seigneur  D' Aul- 
nay  Charnise". 

But  although  madame  could  appreciate  the  joke, 
she  was  angry,  as  well  she  might  be.  Captain 
Bailey's  devotion  to  his  own  interest  had  so  de- 
layed the  ship  that  they  were  too  late  to  reach  and 
succor  Fort  La  Tour.  Charnise*,  it  was  quite  evi- 
dent, was  cruising  to  intercept  all  aid  that  might 
be  going  there.  If  Bailey  had  not  been  so  selfish, 
argued  madame,  she  would  have  been  safe  within 
her  stronghold  before  Charnise  had  crossed  the 
Atlantic.  If  Fort  La  Tour  was  taken,  the  London 
captain  was  to  blame.  And  as  they  left  the  waters 
of  the  bay  behind  and  made  their  way  along  the 
coast  to  Boston,  Bailey  encountered  the  rough 
edge  of  madame's  tongue.  Her  temper  was  thor- 
oughly roused  against  her  procrastinating  captain. 

Madame  La  Tour  had  been  on  the  ocean  six 
months,  and  absent  from  her  home  a  whole  year, 
when  she  finally  landed  in  Boston  and  was  wel- 
comed by  her  Puritan  friends.  As  soon  as  she 
arrived,  we  are  told,  madame  commenced  her  suit 
against  Bailey,  the  captain,  and  Berkley,  the  con- 
signee of  the  ship. 

The  trial  of  these  two  men  came  off  in  the  Bos- 
ton meeting-house  where,  a  few  years  before,  Anne 
Hutchinson  had  been  cast  out  as  an  unworthy  sis- 
ter of  the  church.  The  Lady  La  Tour  appeared  and 
gave  her  testimony  before  the  "  magistrates  and  a 


50      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

jury  of  principal  men."  And  she  must  have  made 
an  impression  on  those  stern  and  serious  individ- 
uals, for  the  court  was  quite  in  her  favor,  and  the 
jury  awarded  her  damages  to  the  amount  of  two 
hundred  pounds.  Bailey  and  Berkley  were  ar- 
rested and,  in  order  to  secure  their  release,  they 
were  obliged  to  surrender  their  cargo.  They  had 
learned  their  lesson.  It  was  not  prudent  to  trifle 
with  a  woman  like  Madame  La  Tour. 

After  reading  the  story  of  Anne  Hutchinson's 
hard  times  in  the  Puritan  capital  one  likes  to 
dwell  on  this  episode  in  Boston's  history.  It 
shows  us  that  Winthrop  and  Cotton  and  even  that 
crabbed,  jealous  man,  Parson  Wilson,  had  a  kindly, 
courteous  side,  although,  in  their  treatment  of 
Mrs.  Hutchinson,  we  coald  hardly  believe  it  possi- 
ble. They  disapproved  of  Mrs.  Anne  Hutchinson. 
She  crossed  them  and  aroused  their  antagonism. 
Madame  La  Tour  was  in  trouble.  She  appealed 
to  their  sympathy.  Moreover,  they  liked  her, 
personally,  and  they  considered  her  a  plucky,  able 
woman  and  a  devoted  wife,  well  worthy  of  their 
service. 

But  the  support  they  gave  her  "  caused  much 
trouble,"  Winthrop  says.  Their  fault-finding 
neighbors,  as  usual,  objected  and  "  two  of  the 
gentlemen  "  who  sided  with  Madame  La  Tour  were 
afterwards  arrested  in  London  and  fined  for  their 
decision  in  favor  of  "  the  lady." 

"The  lady,"  however,  kept  her  goods,  and  hired 


FRANCES  MARY  JACQUELINE  LA   TOUR.   51 

three  ships  that  were  lying  in  Boston  harbor  to 
carry  her  home.  With  many  regrets  she  said 
"  good-by  "  to  the  pleasant  room  with  the  canopy 
bed  at  Mistress  Gibbons',  the  green  islands  and 
marsh  grasses  of  the  harbor,  and  the  kind,  friendly 
people  who  came  to  see  them  off.  Quiet,  conser- 
vative Boston  had  never  seemed  so  attractive  to 
her  as  on  that  day,  when  she  came  to  leave  it  for 
the  confusion  and  warfare  of  Fort  La  Tour. 

About  the  time  of  her  departure  another  visitor 
appeared  in  Boston,  "  one  Marie,  supposed  to  be  a 
friar,  but  habited  like  a  gentleman."  This  Mon- 
sieur Marie  had  a  great  deal  to  say  about  Madame 
La  Tour  and  her  husband.  Charles  La  Tour,  he 
declared,  was  a  traitor ;  and,  as  for  madame,  "  she 
was  known  to  be  the  cause  of  all  his  contempt  and 
sedition."  From  this  it  may  be  judged  that 
Charmse*  was  still  at  his  intrigues.  He  wished  to 
win  the  Bostonians  to  his  side  as  he  had  done  the 
king  and  the  French  court.  This  messenger  of 
his,  Marie,  had  been  sent  for  that  purpose. 

The  Bostonians  scented  danger.  They  regretted 
having  taken  any  part  in  the  quarrel  between  the 
rival  Acadian  chiefs.  They  sought  to  make  friends 
with  Charnise'  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  keep  friends 
with  La  Tour,  and  behaved  in  a  manner  well 
matching  the  conduct  of  their  shrewd  and  politic 
French  neighbors. 

Meanwhile,  Madame  La  Tour  reached  her  fort  in 
safety.       It   seemed    good   to    be    back    after   her 


52      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

wanderings  and  dangers  and  she  smiled  and  talked 
gayly  as  she  took  her  place  once  more  in  the  garri- 
son. As  her  well-freighted  ships  were  unloaded, 
she  showed  with  pride  what  fine  stores  of  provi- 
sions and  ammunition  she  had  brought  back  with 
her.  She  had  many  questions  to  ask  about  the 
happenings  at  the  fort  during  -her  absence.  And 
then,  as  La  Tour  and  his  men  gathered  round  and 
the  wood  blazed  high  in  the  great  fireplace  and  the 
light  of  the  flames  danced  along  the  rafters,  shone 
reflected  in  the  silver  tankards,  and  lighted  up  her 
own  dark  gypsy-like  beauty  and  the  bronzed  faces 
of  the  men  about  her,  she  told  the  story  of  her  long 
journey.  Many  deep-mouthed  oaths  greeted  her 
reference  to  Charnise*'s  pursuit  of  her  and  the  order 
for  her  arrest,  but  there  was  loud  laughing  when 
she  described  her  escape  from  him  in  the  Bay  of 
Fundy. 

As  they  listened,  those  brave,  rough  fellows  of 
the  forest  exalted  her  more  than  ever.  What  a 
queen  they  had  at  Fort  La  Tour,  so  plucky  and  so 
clever !  She  had  given  them  renewed  life  and 
strength.  For  days  after  her  return  it  was  the 
Fort  La  Tour  of  former  times,  overflowing  with 
plenty  and  good  cheer. 

But  as  the  supplies  began  to  diminish,  moments 
of  depression  returned  and  increased.  So  long  as 
Charnise  lived  and  his  ships  of  war  were  anchored 
in  Acadian  waters  there  was  no  peace  for  Charles 
La  Tour  and  those    of   his   fort.     Without  re  en- 


FRANCES  MARY  JACQUELINE  LA   TOUR.   53 

forcement,  the  little  garrison  stood  no  chance 
against  Charnise^s  superior  force.  There  was  noth- 
ing to  do  but  to  try  again  for  help  from  outside. 
This  time  La  Tour  decided  to  go  himself  and  seek 
for  it,  and  he  left  his  fort  under  the  command  of 
his  trusty  wife. 

Madame  La  Tour  parted  from  her  husband  with 
encouraging  words.  But,  as  she  saw  his  white  sail 
disappear  around  the  bend  in  the  shore,  she  turned 
and  walked  back  over  the  steep,  rocky  path  to  the 
fort,  pale-faced  and  solemn,  with  a  feeling  of  dread 
in  her  heart. 

Two  monks  passed  her  at  the  gate  and  bowed  to 
her  with  cringing  deference.  They  were  supposed 
to  have  been  kept  by  La  Tour  out  of  allegiance  to 
King  Louis.  But  madame's  Huguenot  blood  had 
always  rebelled  at  entertaining  Jesuits,  and  these 
two  men  she  had  good  reason  to  dislike.  There 
was  something  underhanded  and  mean  in  their  be- 
havior. She  recognized  them  as  spies  in  the  em- 
ploy of  Charnise".  One  might  have  them  hanged, 
she  reflected.  But  such  a  course  seemed  to  her 
cowardly.  As  she  faced  them,  her  contempt  for 
them  shone  in  her  eyes,  and  she  said  shortly : 

"  You  may  go.     I  have  no  further  need  of  you." 

The  men  drew  their  friars'  robes  about  them  and 
departed  with  sinister  smiles.  They  went  direct 
to  Charmse*  and  reported  the  situation  at  Fort  La 
Tour :  the  food  was  low,  the  powder  nearly  gone, 
and  the  garrison  weak  and  under  the  command  of 


54      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

a  woman,  they  said.  Charmse*  exulted.  The  mo- 
ment had  come  for  him  to  renew  the  attack. 

From  the  lonely  ramparts  by  the  sea  the 
watchers  at  the  fort  could  see  Charnise^s  cruisers 
flitting  to  and  fro  beyond  the  harbor  mouth,  wait- 
ing to  catch  La  Tour  on  his  return.  Suddenly 
there  was  a  movement  of  concerted  action  among 
the  ships.  Charnise'  was  closing  in  with  his  fleet 
toward  the  walls  of  Fort  La  Tour. 

The  assault  began  on  a  February  morning.  The 
Acadian  world  was  white  and  cold.  Fort  La  Tour 
rose  on  its  rocky  heights  like  an  ice  palace  glisten- 
ing in  the  sunshine.  Behind  every  gun  and  can- 
non in  the  castle  was  a  determined  fighting-man, 
and  on  one  of  the  bastions  stood  a  woman  of  sol- 
dierly bearing.  Madame  La  Tour's  sure  aim  and 
steady  hand  did  not  fail  her  on  that  day.  Her 
commands  came  in  quick,  distinct  tones.  Every 
man  was  inspired  by  her  skill  and  courage. 

In  answer  to  the  fire  from  Charnise*'s  warships, 
a  volley  rang  out  from  the  cliffs  of  St.  John.  Fort 
La  Tour  blazed  with  the  flashes  of  many  heavy 
guns,  and  balls  whizzed  through  the  air  and  rid- 
dled the  vessels  in  the  harbor.  Before  night 
twenty  of  CharnistTs  men  fell  dead  on  the  decks 
and  thirteen  were  lying  wounded.  But  the  walls 
of  Fort  La  Tour  stood  as  firm  and  impregnable  as 
the  surrounding  rocks. 

The  boats  in  the  harbor  were  in  sorry  plight. 
Water  was  pouring  into  them  through  the  holes 


FRANCES  MARY  JACQUELINE  LA   TOUR.  55 

made  by  the  cannon  shot.  Charmse*  was  obliged 
to  hurry  them  around  the  curve  in  the  shore  out 
of  reach  of  the  fort  artillery.  And  there  he  ran 
them  aground  on  the  beach.  They  had  barely 
escaped  sinking. 

That  night,  while  there  was  great  enthusiasm 
and  rejoicing  in  the  castle  on  the  heights,  a  morti- 
fied and  enraged  French  general  sat  beside  his 
camp-fire  and  nursed  his  hatred  against  the  woman 
leader  who  had  worsted  him. 

From  February  until  April  those  at  Fort  La 
Tour  watched  and  waited  anxiously.  Though 
Charnise  did  not  renew  the  attack,  he  kept  a  close 
blockade  in  the  harbor  and  no  help  could  arrive. 
Madame  La  Tour  and  her  soldiers  were  not  igno- 
rant of  their  fate.  They  knew  that  they  were 
doomed,  but  they  kept  up  courage  and,  with 
French  spirit,  laughed  and  joked  over  their  din- 
ners of  dry  codfish.  But  there  were  times  when 
the  men  sat  silent  and  despairing,  and  madame's 
brave  words  failed  her.  Then,  shutting  herself 
within  her  chapel,  she  prayed  for  hours  at  a  time. 
She  was  preparing  for  death  as  her  Huguenot 
parents  had  taught  her. 

"  One  still  spring  night,"  says  an  Acadian 
historian,  "  came  the  beginning  of  the  end."  The 
watchers  on  the  rampart  of  the  fort  heard  the 
"  rattling  of  cables  "  and  "  the  splash  of  lowering 
boats  "  in  the  harbor.  The  alarm  was  given  and 
when   at   dawn   the  besiegers    made  their   attack 


56      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

upon  the  landward  and  weaker  side  of  the  fort, 
the  desperate  little  band  met  them  with  fury  and 
again  drove  them  back. 

The  defenders  had  no  hope,  but  they  were 
determined  to  hold  the  fort  to  the  last  moment, 
and  the  sight  of  their  woman  leader,  who,  in  the 
midst  of  shouting,  smoke,  and  firing,  remained 
clearheaded  and  courageous,  made  heroes  of  them 
all.  After  three  days  of  fighting  Charnise  had 
gained  no  advantage. 

But  finally,  one  of  La  Tour's  garrison,  a  Swiss 
guard,  was  bribed  by  Charnise^s  offer  of  gold. 
And  on  Easter  morning  when  Madame  La  Tour 
and  her  garrison  were  at  prayers  in  the  chapel,  the 
Swiss  traitor  on  the  ramparts  did  not  warn  them 
as  Charnise's  force  was  advancing  up  the  cliffs, 
but  he  quietly  stole  down  and  opened  the  gates. 

The  besiegers  were  within  the  palisades.  They 
had  only  to  scale  the  inner  walls  and  the  fort  was 
theirs.  Here,  however,  the  defenders,  led  on  by 
Madame  La  Tour,  rushed  upon  them.  Charnise's 
men  were  pouring  over  the  walls  on  all  sides,  but 
the  men  of  the  fort  gathered  round  madam e  their 
commander  and  fought  with  such  fierceness  and 
boldness  that   the  besiegers  were  repulsed  again. 

Then  Charnisd,  believing  that  the  garrison 
must  be  larger  than  he  had  supposed,  and  fearing 
that  he  might  be  forced  to  suffer  the  humiliation 
of  being  beaten  by  a  woman  a  second  time,  called 
for  a  truce  and  "  offered  honorable  terms."    Madame 


FRANCES  MARY  JACQUELINE  LA    TOUR.   57 

La  Tour,  to  save  the  blood  of  her  soldiers,  agreed 
and  put  her  name  to  the  articles  of  surrender. 

The  story  is  that  when  Charmse*  was  within  the 
fort  and  looked  into  the  faces  of  the  little  starving 
band  whom  he  had  feared  on  the  other  side  of 
the  wall,  he  went  into  a  passion  and  with  a  harsh 
laugh  he  tore  up  the  capitulation  under  the  eyes 
of  the  woman  general.  And  then,  impelled  by  a 
mean,  revengeful  nature,  he  took  her  garrison  and 
had  them  hanged  man  by  man,  while  he  forced 
madame  to  stand  by,  with  a  halter  round  her  neck, 
and  watch  their  agonies. 

Madame  La  Tour  never  recovered  from  the  shock 
of  that  terrible  scene.  The  slaughter  of  her 
devoted  followers,  probably  even  more  than  the 
destruction  of  her  fort  or  the  ruin  of  her  husband's 
fortunes,  broke  her  strong,  heroic  spirit.  She  died 
a  few  weeks  later,  a  captive  at  Port  Royal,  and 
was  buried  on  the  banks  of  the  St.  John. 

Of  course  the  tale  of  the  rival  chiefs  does  not 
end  with  the  death  of  Madame  La  Tour.  That 
romantic  chapter  in  Acadian  history  closes  drama- 
tically with  a  drowning  accident  and  a  wedding. 
Charnise,  who  had  become  sole  lord  of  Acadia, 
when  just  at  the  height  of  his  power,  fell  into  his 
"turbid  little  river"  of  Port  Royal,  and  was 
swept  away  in  its  "  deep  eddies."  Whereupon  La 
Tour,  who  was  always  a  patient,  cheerful  man, 
returned  from  his  homeless  wanderings,  stepped 
into  his  rival's  shoes,  laid  hold  of  all  his  belongings, 


58      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

and,  to  make  good  his  own  title,  married  his 
enemy's  widow,  Madame  Charnise*.  Let  us  hope 
she  led  him  a  dance  ! 

They  were  neither  of  them  very  estimable  men, 
these  rival  chiefs.  It  was  an  age  of  trickery,  greed, 
and  treachery,  and  so  far  as  we  can  judge,  La 
Tour  and  Charnise  possessed  the  qualities  of  their 
time  in  full  measure.  But  the  heroine  of  their 
stor}r  was  of  a  very  different  sort,  and  the  fame  of 
Madame  La  Tour  has  come  down  to  us  from  the 
stormy  period  in  which  she  lived  as  clear  and 
bright  as  the  rushing  waters  that  swept  the  shores 
of  her  wild,  woodland  home. 


III. 


MARGARET   BRENT, 

THE   WOMAN   RULER   OF   MARYLAND. 

Boru  in  England  about  1600. 

Died  at  St.  Mary's,  Maryland,  about  1661. 

"  Had  she  been  born  a  queen  she  would  have  been  as  brilliant 
and  daring  as  Elizabeth ;  had  she  been  born  a  man  she  would 
have  been  a  Cromwell  in  her  courage  and  audacity." —  John  L. 
Thomas. 

When  Charles  the  First  of  England  gave  to 
Lord  Cecil  Baltimore  that  land  in  the  new  world 
which  he  had  called  Maryland  in  honor  of  his  queen 
Henrietta  Maria,  he  could  not  foresee  that  this 
Maryland  would  one  day  come  under  the  guidance 
of  a  woman  who  would  be  likened  in  brilliancy 
and  daring  to  his  cousin,  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  in 
courage  and  audacity  to  his  judge  and  successor, 
Oliver  Cromwell.  And  yet,  not  long  after  King 
Charles  made  that  grant  of  land  to  his  friend 
Lord  Baltimore,  such  a  woman  of  queenly  daring 
and  republican  courage  found  her  way  to  the  new 
colony  and  into  the  councils  of  its  leading  men, 
and  her  name,  Margaret  Brent,  stands  for  the  most 

59 


60      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

vigorous  force  in  the  early  history  of  Maryland. 
However,  she  might  not  have  exerted  quite  so 
much  influence  over  those  first  Maryland  colonists 
had  she  not  stood  in  the  relationship  she  did  to 
the  governor  of  Maryland,  Leonard  Calvert,  the 
brother  of  Lord  Baltimore.  There  are  some  who 
think  that  Margaret  Brent  was  an  intimate  friend 
or  kinswoman  of  Leonard  Calvert  and  there  are 
others  who  believe  that  she  was  his  sweetheart. 
The  historian  who  knew  the  most  about  her  was 
of  the  latter  opinion.  Doubtless  the  historian  was 
right.  But  we  need  not  decide.  It  is  better  to 
let  the  atmosphere  of  doubt  and  mystery  still 
linger  about  the  names  of  Margaret  Brent  and 
Leonard  Calvert  and  their  old-time  relationship. 
There  is  a  certain  charm  in  the  indefiniteness  of 
her  past. 

It  was  in  the  year  1634  that  Leonard  Calvert 
came  to  America,  bringing  over  three  hundred 
colonists,  some  twenty  of  them  men  of  wealth  and 
position.  Among  those  who  voyaged  with  him 
were  Father  White,  the  good  priest  who  labored 
to  convert  the  Indians  of  the  Potomac  country, 
Thomas  Cornwaleys,  an  honest  soldier,  the  Miles 
Standish  of  Maryland,  and  Thomas  Green,  a  man 
of  slight  ability,  the  one  who  succeeded  Leonard 
Calvert  in  the  government  of  the  colony.  These 
three  hundred  English  colonists  sailed  into  that 
great  bay  of  four  leagues  width,  the  Chesapeake, 
up  that  broad  river  the  Potomac,  which  the  Indians 


MARGARET  BRENT.  61 

told  them  flowed  "  from  the  sunset "  and  landed 
in  a  region  of  glistening  sands  and  waving  forest 
trees,  a  country  filled  in  the  long  summers  with 
singing  birds  and  a  "  millionous  multitude "  of 
wild-flowers.  There;  where  a  little  river  joins  the 
waters  of  the  Potomac,  they  founded  their  city 
and  they  called  both  the  city  and  the  river  St. 
Mary's.  The  city  has  long  since  vanished,  but  its 
memory  still  lingers  in  the  river  and  its  name. 

Four  years  after  the  coming  of  Leonard  Calvert 
and  those  first  Maryland  settlers,  Margaret  Brent 
arrived  in  the  city  of  St.  Mary's.  She  had  sailed 
from  England  with  her  sister  Mary,  her  brothers 
Giles  and  Fulk,  their  servants,  and  nine  other 
colonists.  It  was  in  November  that  Mistress  Mar- 
garet first  saw  Maryland,  then  brilliant  in  the 
beauty  of  an  Indian  summer.  The  orioles  were  still 
singing  in  the  forests,  the  late  wild-flowers  were 
blooming  in  the  crevices  of  the  rocks,  and  the  trees 
still  kept  their  foliage  of  red  and  gold.  Mistress 
Margaret  must  have  felt  with  those  other  early 
Maryland  colonists  that  the  air  of  her  new  home 
was  "  like  the  breath  of  Heaven ; "  that  she  had 
entered  "  Paradise." 

Margaret  Brent,  her  sister  and  brothers  were 
received  in  all  honor  by  Governor  Calvert.  Giles 
was  at  once  appointed  member  of  the  Council  and 
was  advanced  from  one  position  to  another  until 
finally,  in  the  year  1643,  when  Leonard  Calvert  was 
called  to  England,  he  was  made  acting  governor. 


62      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

Giles  Brent's  individual  merit  hardly  justified  his 
rapid  rise  to  power.  He  was  a  loyal,  zealous  man, 
but  there  were  other  men  in  the  colony  equally 
loyal  and  zealous  and  at  the  same  time  more  able 
and  popular  than  he  ;  Thomas  Cornwaleys  was 
one  of  these.  So  it  has  been  surmised  that  per- 
haps Mistress  Margaret  was  the  cause  of  Giles's 
high  favor  with  Governor  Calvert.  Governor  Cal- 
vert was  ever  eager  to  please  the  woman  who  was 
his  friend,  cousin,  or  sweetheart,  as  the  case  may 
have  been,  and  in  making  his  appointments  he  was 
not  likely  to  forget  that  Giles  was  Margaret's 
brother. 

The  whole  Brent  family,  the  women  as  well  as 
the  men,  played  an  active,  prominent  part  in  the 
affairs  of  the  colony.  Immediately  after  their  ar- 
rival they  took  up  land  in  the  town  and  on  Kent 
Island,  built  themselves  manor  houses,  and  carried 
on  a  prosperous  business. 

Margaret  became  as  wise  as  her  brothers,  or  even 
wiser,  in  the  intricacies  of  the  English  law  ruling 
estates  and  decedents.  We  hear  of  her  registering 
cattle  marks,  buying  and  selling  property,  and  sign- 
ing herself  "  Attorney  for  my  brother." 

Indeed,  she  was  so  much  engaged  in  her  land 
operations  and  business  of  all  sorts  that  she  had 
no  time  to  think  of  love.  Governor  Calvert  and 
all  the  gentlemen  of  his  Council  might  importune 
her.  Still  she  remained  Mistress  Margaret  Brent 
and,  like  the  great  English  queen  to  whom  she  has 


MARGARET  BRENT.  63 

been  compared,  chose  to  retain,  in  spite  of  lovers' 
pleadings,  the  sovereignty  of  her  own  heart  and 
hand. 

Nevertheless,  though  she  would  not  be  wooed 
and  won,  she  ruled  royally  among  her  little  court 
of  admirers  at  St.  Mary's.  We  wonder  at  her  in- 
fluence and  power  and  can  only  understand  them 
when  we  come  to  know  her.  As  we  look  into  the 
early  records  of  the  Maryland  colony  and  catch 
those  rare  glimpses  of  Mistress  Margaret,  we  find 
that  she  was  no  ordinary  person.  She  was,  indeed, 
a  woman  of  brains,  courage,  and  executive  ability. 
She  knew  people  and  was  able  to  manage  them  and 
their  affairs  with  remarkable  tact.  Moreover,  al- 
though she  was  no  longer  very  young,  she  could 
still  please  and  fascinate.  And  so  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  she  became  in  effect,  if  not  in  fact,  the 
woman  ruler  of  Maryland. 

One  would  like  to  know  where  Mistress  Mar- 
garet was  when  Clayborne,  the  Puritan  claimant  to 
Kent  Island,  and  the  pirate  Ingles  made  raids  upon 
her  home.  At  that  time  Governor  Calvert,  who 
had  just  returned  from  England,  was  forced  by  the 
invaders  to  flee  to  Virginia  and  many  Mary  landers, 
loyal  to  him,  went  with  him.  Perhaps  Mistress 
Margaret  was  one  of  those  who  shared  his  exile, 
or  perhaps,  in  her  fearlessness  and  daring,  she  re- 
mained in  Maryland  to  look  after  his  estates,  her 
brothers',  and  her  own. 

Two  years  passed  before  Governor  Calvert  was 


64      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

able  to  put  down  the  rebellion  and  return  to  his 
colony.  But  he  did  not  live  long  to  enjoy  the 
peace  that  followed.  He  died  in  the  summer  of 
1647,  when  he  was  still  a  comparatively  young 
man.  As  he  had  neither  wife  nor  children,  there 
was  much  wondering  as  to  whom  he  would  appoint 
his  heir  and  many  thought  of  his  brother,  Lord 
Baltimore,  who  had  met  with  recent  losses  at  home 
and  in  the  province. 

Thomas  Green  with  a  few  others  of  the  Gov- 
ernor's Council  and  Mary  and  Margaret  Brent  were 
with  him  just  before  he  died.  He  named  Thomas 
Green  his  successor  as  governor.  Then  his  eyes 
rested  upon  Margaret  Brent,  perhaps  with  love, 
at  least  with  confidence  and  admiration.  There 
was  no  one  in  the  colony  so  wise,  so  able,  so  loyal 
as  she.  Leonard  Galvert  had  always  known  that. 
Pointing  to  her  so  that  all  might  see  and  under- 
stand, he  made  the  will  that  has  come  down  to  us 
as  the  shortest  one  on  record.  "  I  make  yon  my 
sole  executrix,"  he  said ;  "  take  all  and  pay  all." 
And  after  he  had  spoken  these  words  of  laconic  in- 
struction, he  asked  that  all  would  leave  him  "ex- 
cept Mistress  Margaret." 

We  cannot  know  what  passed  between  Leonard 
Calvert  and  Margaret  Brent  in  their  last  interview 
and  whether  it  was  as  friends,  cousins,  or  sweet- 
hearts that  they  said  good-by.  Margaret  never  told. 
We  can  only  see  that  it  was  to  her  he  addressed  his 
last  words  and  in  her  placed  his  "  especial  trust  and 


MARGARET  BRENT.  65 

confidence ; "  and  that,  whatever  was  the  tie  that 
bound  them,  for  him  it  was  closer  than  any  other. 

"  Take  all  and  pay  all,"  he  had  said,  and 
Margaret  Brent  determined  to  carry  out  his  com- 
mand to  the  letter.  The  first  thing  that  she  took 
was  his  house.  There  was  some  dispute  as  to  her 
title  to  it ;  but  Mistress  Margaret  did  not  wait  for 
this  dispute  to  close.  She  was  convinced  that  her 
claim  was  a  good  one  and  being  a  woman  of  quick, 
decided  action,  she  at  once  established  herself  in 
the  governor's  mansion,  for  she  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  old  law  by  which  "  possession  is 
nine  points."  Then,  having  secured  the  house,  she 
collected  all  of  Governor  Calvert's  property  and 
took  it  under  her  care  and  management. 

This  would  have  been  enough  for  most  women. 
But  Mistress  Margaret  was  not  so  easily  satisfied. 
She  was  determined  to  have  all  that  was  implied 
in  the  phrase  "  Take  all  and  pay  all."  So  we  soon 
find  her  making  claim  that,  since  she  had  been 
appointed  "  executrix "  of  Leonard  Calvert,  she 
had  the  right  to  succeed  Leonard  Calvert  as  Lord 
Baltimore's  attorney  and  in  that  character  to 
receive  all  the  profits  and  to  pay  all  the  debts  of 
his  lordship's  estate  and  to  attend  to  the  estate's 
preservation. 

This  declaration  astounded  the  Maryland  colo- 
nists. They  had  their  doubts  as  to  the  legality  of 
Mistress  Margaret's  claim  and  made  objection  to 
it.    But  she,  who  was  never  daunted  by  opposition, 


66      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

applied  to  the  Provincial  Court  for  an  interpreta- 
tion of  her  rights.  And  the  court  interpreted  in 
perfect  accordance  with  Mistress  Margaret's  wishes. 
It  is  surprising  what  powers  of  persuasion  she 
possessed. 

Margaret  Brent  was  soon  not  only  mistress  of 
Governor  Calvert's  mansion.  By  her  own  decree 
and  with  the  sanction  of  the  Provincial  Court,  she 
had  become  Lord  Baltimore's  attorney,  and  in 
that  dignified  position  she  had  control  of  all  the 
rents,  issues,  and  profits  of  his  lordship's  estate. 
The  fact  that  Lord  Baltimore  himself  knew  noth- 
ing of  all  this  mattered  little  to  Mistress  Margaret. 
She  knew  and  was  satisfied.     That  was  sufficient. 

Her  next  step  was  more  daring  than  all  those 
that  went  before.  It  was  no  less  than  a  demand 
for  vote  and  representation  ;  and  that  two  centu- 
ries and  a  half  ago,  when  talk  of  woman's  rights  was 
as  unheard  of  as  the  steam  engine,  or  the  force  of 
electricity !  Certainly  Mistress  Margaret  was  far 
in  advance  of  her  times. 

On  the  strength  of  her  own  assertions  she  de- 
cided that  she  had  as  good  a  claim  as  any  one  to  a 
voice  and  a  seat  in  the  General  Assembly.  Leon- 
ard Calvert  in  his  lifetime,  as  Lord  Baltimore's  at- 
torney, had  the  right  to  vote,  she  reflected  ;  and  now 
since  Leonard  Calvert  was  dead  and  she  had  suc- 
ceeded as  his  lordship's  attorney,  it  was  only  fair 
that  the  right  to  vote  should  pass  on  to  her. 

Her  audacity  carried  her  even  further.     She  was 


MARGARET  BRENT.  67 

Leonard  Calvert's  "  executrix,"  she  told  herself, 
and  was  entitled  to  a  vote  in  that  capacity.  And 
so,  she  concluded,  she  had  the  right  to  two  votes 
in  the  General  Assembly. 

No  one  but  Margaret  Brent  would  have  medi- 
tated those  two  votes,  one  for  a  foreign  lord  who 
had  never  authorized  her  to  act  for  him  and  the 
other  for  a  dead  man  whose  only  instructions  to 
her  had  been  :  "  Take  all  and  pay  all."  We  can 
only  wonder  at  her  presumption  and  ingenious 
reasoning,  as  did  a  masculine  biographer  of  hers 
who  was  moved  to  exclaim  in  admiration  of  her 
daring  —  "  What  man  would  ever  have  dreamed 
of  such  a  thing  !  " 

Her  astonishing  stand  for  woman's  rights  was 
made  on  the  twenty-first  of  January,  1648.  At  the 
first  beat  of  the  drum  that  used  to  call  the  assembly- 
men together  in  the  early  days  of  the  Maryland 
colony,  Mistress  Margaret  started  on  her  way  for 
Fort  St.  John's,  where  the  General  Assembly  was 
to  meet.  There  was  determination  in  her  eyes  and 
in  her  attitude,  as  she  sat  erect  upon  her  horse  and 
rode  along  over  the  four  miles  of  snow-covered 
road  to  the  fort.  She  was  deciding  that  at  least  she 
would  have  her  say  before  the  court  and  show  the 
justice  of  her  suit. 

The  assemblymen  were  expecting  a  visit  from 
Margaret  Brent.  They  had  some  notion  of  the 
mission  upon  which  she  was  coming  and  they  were 
uncertain  how  to  receive  it,  for  they  did  not  like 


68      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

either  the  thought  of  granting  or  of  denying  her 
request.  So,  when  she  entered  the  court  room, 
they  glanced  at  each  other  with  looks  that  seemed 
to  say,  "  We  had  better  adjourn  ;  "  and  Governor 
Green,  who,  if  the  truth  may  be  told,  was  always 
a  little  afraid  of  Mistress  Margaret,  was  the  most 
disconcerted  of  all. 

Mistress  Margaret,  however,  would  not  let  her- 
self be  disturbed  by  the  cool  reception  with  which 
she  was  met.  Though  the  court  tried  to  hedge 
her  about  with  rules  and  orders  to  keep  her  quiet, 
she  remained  firm  in  her  intention  to  speak.  And 
finally,  when  her  opportunity  came,  she  rose  and 
put  forward,  for  the  first  time  in  America,  the 
claim  of  a  woman's  right  to  sit  and  vote  in  a  legis- 
lative assembly. 

We  can  only  imagine  the  scene  that  followed 
that  brief  and  daring  speech  of  hers  in  the  court 
room  of  Fort  St.  John's.  A  wave  of  startled 
wonder  and  amazement  passed  over  the  whole 
Assembly.  And  yet,  preposterous  as  her  demand 
was  to  those  first  Maryland  planters,  there  were 
some  among  them  who,  moved  by  her  forcible, 
persuasive  eloquence,  would  have  been  willing  to 
grant  her  request.  But  Governor  Green,  who  was 
usually  so  weak  and  vacillating,  became  for  once 
firm  and.  decided  and  gained  control  over  the 
minds  of  all  his  assemblymen.  He  had  always 
regarded  Margaret  Brent  as  his  most  dangerous 
rival  and  it  was  his  greatest  wish  to  keep  her  out 


MARGARET  BRENT.  69 

of  power.  If  he  should  grant  her  a  seat  or  a  voice 
in  the  Assembly,  he  reflected,  she  might  manage 
to  govern  all  the  voting  and  all  the  speaking  in  the 
house,  and  perhaps,  for  there  was  no  limit  to  her  pre- 
sumption, as  the  attorney  of  Lord  Baltimore,  she 
might  get  herself  elected  governor.  It  angered  him 
to  remember  he  had  heard  it  whispered  mischiev- 
ously through  the  colony  that  Mistress  Margaret 
would  make  a  better  governor  than  Thomas  Green. 
The  time  had  come,  he  told  himself,  when  either  he 
or  she  must  prevail.  So  he  braced  himself  for  prompt 
and  autocratic  action  and  flatly  refused,  as  the 
Maryland  records  attest,  "  that  the  said  Mrs.  Brent 
should  have  any  vote  in  the  house." 

"  The  said  Mrs.  Brent  "  did  not  take  her  defeat 
without  protest.  She  objected  vehemently  to  the 
proceedings  of  the  Assembly  and  departed  from 
the  court  room  in  angry  dignity.  She  had  failed 
in  her  purpose  ;  but  by  her  bold  stand  she  had 
made  for  herself  a  signal  record  as  the  first  woman 
in  America  to  advocate  her  right  to  vote. 

It  was  Governor  Green  who  had  denied  her  this 
right  and  yet  it  was  Governor  Green  who  turned 
to  her  for  help  whenever  an  emergency  arose.  And 
emergencies  were  constantly  arising  in  the  half- 
settled  province  of  Maryland.  Soon  after  the 
death  of  Leonard  Calvert,  there  threatened  to  be  a 
mutiny  in  the  army.  The  soldiers  had  fought 
against  Clayborne  and  Ingles  for  Governor  Calvert, 
when  he  was  an  exile  in  Virginia,  and  Governor 


70      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

Calvert  had  promised  them  that  they  should  be 
paid  in  full  "  out  of  the  stock  and  personal  property 
of  his  lordship's  plantation."  Governor  Calvert 
was  dead,  the  pay  was  not  forthcoming,  and  the 
only  course  left  to  the  soldiers  seemed  to  be  in- 
surrection. Governor  Green  could  think  of  noth- 
ing to  appease  the  half-starved,  indignant  troops 
and,  much  against  his  dignity,  he  went  to  Margaret 
Brent  for  aid.  As  soon  as  Mistress  Margaret  heard 
of  the  trouble  that  was  brewing  she  remembered 
the  instructions  which  Leonard  Calvert  had  given 
her  to  "  pay  all."  So  without  hesitation  she  sold 
cattle  belonging  to  Lord  Baltimore  and  paid  off 
all  the  hungry  soldiers.  This  was  not  the  only 
time  that  Mistress  Margaret  was  called  upon  to 
calm  an  angry  army. 

News  travelled  slowly  in  those  early  colonial 
days  and  it  was  some  time  before  Lord  Baltimore 
heard  of  all  that  Margaret  Brent  was  claiming  and 
doing  as  his  own  attorney  and  the  executrix  of 
his  brother.  Not  really  knowing  Mistress  Margaret, 
he  was  inclined  to  look  upon  her  as  an  officious 
sort  of  person  who  had  been  "  meddling  "  in  his 
affairs  and  he  wrote  "  tartly  "  and  with  "  bitter  in- 
vectives "  concerning  her  to  the  General  Assembly. 

But  the  Assembly  understood  Margaret  Brent 
better  than  Lord  Baltimore  did,  and  they  sent  a 
spirited  reply  to  him  in  gallant  praise  of  Margaret 
Brent  and  her  wise  conduct.  They  told  his  lord- 
ship,   with    unconscious    humor,    that    they    did 


MARGARET  BRENT.  71 

"  verily  believe  "  it  was  better  for  his  own  advan- 
tage and  the  colony's  safety  that  his  estate  was  in 
her  hands  rather  than  "  in  any  man  else's."  The 
soldiers,  the  Assembly  said,  would  never  have 
treated  any  other  with  "  that  civility  and  respect " 
which  they  always  showed  to  her  and  when,  at  times, 
they  were  "  ready  to  run  into  mutiny,"  she  was  the 
only  one  in  all  the  colony  who  was  able  to  pacify 
them.  Indeed,  all  would  have  gone  "  to  ruin,"  de- 
clared the  loyal  assemblymen,  if  Mistress  Brent  had 
not  been  proclaimed  his  lordship's  attorney  by  order 
of  the  court,  and  the  letter  ends  with  the  dignified 
but  indignant  protest  that  Mistress  Brent  had 
deserved  "  favor  and  thanks  "  from  his  lordship 
rather  than  all  those  "  bitter  invectives  "  which  he 
had  been  pleased  to  express  against  her. 

The  Maryland  assemblymen  could  not  give  Mis- 
tress Margaret  the  right  to  vote,  but  they  could 
defend  her  even  against  the  lord  of  their  colony  and 
declare  her  the  ablest  man  among  them.  It  must 
have  made  Mistress  Margaret  herself  very  proud  to 
think  of  the  respect  and  confidence  which  she  in- 
spired in  her  fellow  colonists. 

To  the  end  of  her  days  Margaret  Brent  contin- 
ued to  lead  a  life  of  ability  and  energetic  action. 
There  are  occasional  glimpses  of  her  later  history, 
as  she  flashes  across  the  records  of  the  Maryland 
colony  always  a  clear-cut,  fearless,  vigorous  person- 
ality. At  one  time  she  appears  before  the  Assem- 
bly claiming  that  the  tenements  belonging  to  the 


72      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

rebels  within  Leonard  Calvert's  manors  should  be 
under  her  care  and  management.  Again  she 
comes  pleading  her  cause  against  one  Thomas  Ger- 
rard  for  five  thousand  pounds  of  tobacco.  At  an- 
other time  she  figures  as  an  offender  accused  of 
stealing  and  killing  cattle,  only  to  retort  signifi- 
cantly that  the  cattle  were  her  own  and  to  demand 
a  trial  by  jury. 

In  all  of  these  cases  and  many  others  too  she 
seems  to  have  had  her  way.  The  General  Assem- 
bly never  denied  her  anything  but  the  right  to  vote. 
She  had  only  to  express  a  wish  in  her  clear,  per- 
suasive fashion  and  it  was  granted.  In  point  of 
fact,  Margaret  Brent  ruled  the  colony. 

She  finally  disappears  from  our  view  at  the  age 
of  fifty-eight  in  the  character  of  a  "  mourning  sweet- 
heart." Neither  her  mature  age  nor  her  strong- 
minded  notions  could  scare  away  her  lovers.  She 
certainly  was  a  remarkable  woman  in  more  ways 
than  one. 

When  she  came  for  the  last  time  before  the  Gen- 
eral Assembly  her  hair  must  have  been  gray  but 
her  speech  no  less  eloquent  and  her  manner  no  less 
charming  than  in  the  days  of  Leonard  Calvert. 
We  can  imagine  her,  in  the  presence  of  the  court, 
stating  with  dignity  and  frankness  that  she  was  the 
heir  of  Thomas  White,  a  Maryland  gentleman,  who, 
dying,  had  left  her  his  whole  estate  as  a  proof  of 
"his  love  and  affection  and  of  his  constant  wish  to 
marry  her." 


MARGARET  BRENT.  73 

One  would  like  to  know  more  of  Thomas  White, 
that  truly  loyal  and  devoted  Maryland  gentleman. 
But  he  appears  only  in  the  one  role,  that  of  Mis- 
tress Margaret's  lover.  For  it  is  quite  incongruous 
to  associate  him  with  that  other  Thomas  White  who 
owned  the  place  of  unromantic  name,  "  The  Hog- 
pen Tavern."  Mistress  Margaret's  Thomas  White 
was  probably  a  quiet,  gentle,  unobtrusive  sort  of 
man  who  admired  in  her  the  daring  qualities  which 
he  himself  lacked. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  possibly,  if  Thomas 
White  had  lived,  Mistress  Margaret  might  have 
been  induced  at  last  to  resign  her  independent  state 
and  to  take,  in  place  of  her  own  name,  that  of  Mrs. 
Thomas  White ;  that  she  had  grown  weary  of  her 
land  operations  and  her  duties  as  executrix  and  at- 
torney and  was  willing  to  settle  down  to  a  life  of 
domestic  calm.  But  it  is  almost  impossible  to  | 
think  of  Margaret  Brent  as  changing  her  business- 
like, self-reliant  nature  and  meditating  love  and 
matrimony.  It  is  more  likely  that  this  interesting 
and  unusual  colonial  dame  died  as  she  had  lived, 
loving  nothing  but  the  public  good  and  the  man- 
agement of  her  own  and  other  people's  affairs. 


IV. 
MADAM   SARAH   KNIGHT, 

A   COLONIAL   TRAVELLER. 

Born  in  Boston,  April  19,  1666. 

Died  at  New  London,  Connecticut,  September  25,  1727. 

u  She  was  a  woman  of  great  energy  and  talent  and  must  have 
heen  counted  an  extraordinary  character  in  those  early  days." 
—  Alice  Morse  Earle. 

Debby  Billings  was  meditating  going  to  bed. 
She  was  very  sleepy.  Her  head  was  nodding  and 
dropping  heavily  upon  the  hard,  uneasy  back  of 
her  chair  and  drowsiness  had  so  filled  her  eyes  that 
she  saw  all  things  crookedly.  The  dishes  in  the 
dresser  were  performing  queer  antics  and  the  table 
and  chairs  were  assuming  all  sorts  of  strange  atti- 
tudes. Debby  began  to  fear  the  witches  were 
tormenting  her. 

Suddenly  her  ear  caught  the  sound  of  horses' 
hoofs  coming  nearer  and  nearer.  She  straightened 
in  her  chair,  rubbed  her  eyes,  stretched  herself,  and 
yawned.  It  was  late  for  travellers  to  be  on  the 
road,  thought  Debby  ;  could  they  be  coming  to  the 
farm  for  a  night's  lodging  ? 

The  noise  of  the  horses'  hoofs  stopped   at   the 

75 


r 


76      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

farm  gate.  Debby  heard  the  riders  dismount  and 
some  one  speak  a  few  words,  as  though  of  direction. 
Then  the  door  opened  and  Debby  found  herself 
face  to  face  with  a  very  unexpected  guest.  She 
started  from  her  chair  and  stared  as  if  she  feared 
the  witches  still  were  tormenting  her. 

She  had  not  thought  to  see  a  traveller  in  petti- 
coats, such  handsome  petticoats,  too,  and  in  the 
midst  of  her  alarm  at  the  arrival  of  so  unusual  a 
guest  Debby  looked  with  curious,  admiring  eyes 
at  the  newcomer's  costume,  the  scarlet  cloak  and 
little  round  cap  of  Lincoln  green,  the  puffed  and 
ruffled  sleeves,  the  petticoat  of  green  drugget- 
cloth,  the  high-heeled  leather  shoes  with  their  green 
ribbon  bows,  and  the  riding-mask  of  black  velvet 
which,  Debby  remembered  to  have  heard,  only 
ladies  of  the  highest  gentility  wore.  But  as  she 
gazed,  Debby  began  to  have  unpleasant  feelings, 
wondering  what  could  bring  so  fine  a  lady  to  her 
door  at  such  an  hour,  on  so  dark  and  disagreeable 
a  night.  The  simple  but  suspecting  country  wench 
was  frightened.  She  retreated  a  few  steps  from  her 
lady  guest  and  exclaimed  in  excited  tones : 

"  Lawful  me,  madam,  what  in  the  world  brings 
you  here  at  this  time  a  night?  I  never  see  a 
woman  on  the  road  so  dreadful  late  in  all  my 
'versal  life.  Who  are  you  ?  —  wdiere  are  you  going  ? 
I  'm  scared  out  of  my  wits." 

Madam  had  taken  off  her  riding-mask  and  was 
surveying  Debby  in  amazement.     She  appeared  to 


MADAM  SARAH  KNIGHT.  77 

be  undecided  whether  or  not  to  answer  such  im- 
pertinent questions. 

Just  then  the  door  opened  again  and  in  came  a 
man  whom  Debby  recognized  as  a  certain  John 
whose  father  kept  a  tavern  at  Dedham,  twelve 
miles  away  on  the  Boston  turnpike.  The  girl 
turned  immediately  to  him  and  began  addressing 
him  with  her  storm  of  startled  queries : 

"  Is  it  you,  John  ?  How  de  do  ?  Where  in  the 
world  are  you  going  with  this  woman  ?  Who  is 
she?" 

But  John  was  uncommunicative.  He  scarcely 
looked  at  Debby.  Settling  himself  on  a  bench  in 
one  corner  of  the  room,  he  fumbled  in  his  pocket 
and  finally  brought  out  a  dark,  suspicious-looking 
bottle  to  which  he  straightway  gave  his  entire 
attention. 

For  a  moment  Debby  stared  blankly  at  John 
and  his  black  jug.  Then  her  gaze  returned  to 
madam. 

Madam  was  beginning  to  show  signs  of  im- 
patience under  all  this  interrogation.  She  sighed, 
jerked  off  her  gloves,  and  began  tapping  the  floor 
restlessly  with  her  riding-whip.  She  looked  very 
tired  and  her  glance  wandered  significantly  to  the 
nearest  chair. 

Meanwhile  the  long  silence  was  increasing 
Debby's  alarm  and  she  burst  out  once  more  with 
her  questions. 

"  Lawful  heart,  ma'am !  won't  you  tell  me  who 


78      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

you  are  ?  "  she  implored.  "  Why  have  you  come 
here  ?     Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

Madam  frowned.  The  girl's  ill  breeding  irritated 
her.  "  I  think  you  are  treating  me  very  rudely," 
she  said  in  cool,  polite  tones,  "  and  I  do  not  think 
it  my  duty  to  answer  your  unmannerly  ques- 
tions." 

Her  words  somewhat  abashed  Debby,  who  stood 
before  her  guest,  nervously  rolling  the  corners  of 
her  apron. 

Observing  the  girl's  discomfiture,  madam  added 
more  kindly,  "  My  reason  for  coming  here  is  not  so 
strange,  though  you  choose  to  consider  it  so.  I  do 
but  desire  a  night's  lodging,  intending  to  journey 
on  to-morrow  morning,  in  company  with  the  post." 

Debby  was  not  satisfied  by  this  explanation  and 
she  continued  to  gaze  at  madam  in  dazed  perplex- 
ity. But  she  recovered  her  wits  enough  to  think 
to  ask  her  guest  to  be  seated. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  madam,  sitting  down  and 
eying  Debby  with  an  amused  expression  that  the 
girl  could  not  understand.  "  I  am  glad  your  chairs 
are  useful  as  well  as  ornamental."  Then,  glancing 
at  the  silent,  bibulous  man  in  the  corner,  she  con- 
tinued, "  Master  John,  I  '11  warrant  you  can  leave 
that  black  junk  of  yours  long  enough  to  receive 
your  pay,  can't  you  ?  " 

The  fellow  was  on  his  feet  in  a  moment,  shuffling 
toward  her  with  an  expansive  grin  on  his  honest 
countenance. 


MADAM  SARAH  KNIGHT.  79 

"  I  shall  recommend  you,"  remarked  madam  in 
laughing  tones,  as  she  put  the  money  into  his 
hand,  "  as  a  gallant  squire  to  all  ladies  in  distress. 
But  a  word  of  advice,  Master  John,"  she  added, 
lowering  her  voice,  "  be  quicker  with  the  tongue 
and  slower  with  the  bottle.  'T  would  improve  you 
vastly." 

John's  grin  returned  and  then  gradually  faded -^-7 
away.  It  was  hard  to  tell  whether  madam  were  (J 
joking  or  serious. 

It  was  quite  evident,  however,  that  madam  was 
travel- worn  and  tired  —  too  travel- worn  and  tired 
for  further  conversation.  Even  in  the  pale  candle- 
light one  could  see  that  her  handsome  petticoat 
and  neat  shoes  were  splashed  with  mud  and  that 
the  hair  beneath  her  little  round  cap  was  loose  and 
wind-blown.  As  she  sat  leaning  back  in  her  chair 
with  half-closed  eyes  she  looked  as  though  she  had 
found  her  journey  a  hard  one.  For  a  moment  she 
remained  in  that  attitude  of  exhaustion.  Then, 
addressing  Debby,  she  said  wearily,  "  Will  you 
have  the  goodness  to  show  me  where  I  may  lodge  ?  " 
adding  under  her  breath,  "  methinks  I  could  sleep 
on  corn  husks  to-night,  but  hope  my  patience  will 
not  be  taxed  to  that  extent." 

Debby  conducted  her  guest  to  an  adjoining  room 
and,  opening  the  door,  disclosed  a  little  back  parlor 
almost  filled  with  a  high  bedstead,  the  sight  of 
which  caused  madam  to  raise  her  eyebrows  in 
despair.    Debb}^  showed  the  room  mechanically  and 


r 


80      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

did  not  cease  to  wonder  and  look  doubtful.  Her 
perplexity  was  not  lost  upon  her  guest.  As 
madam  turned  at  the  door  and  took  the  candle 
which  Debby  offered  her,  she  looked  into  the  girl's 
eyes  and  laughed,  "You  can  stare,  wench,"  she 
said.  "  I  doubt  not  you  will  recognize  me  to- 
morrow morning.  Good-night  and  pleasant  dreams 
to  you,  Mistress  Billings,"  and  with  another  laugh 
and  a  quick  courtesy  madam  entered  her  room  and 
the  door  closed  behind  her. 

For  a  moment  Debby  stood  with  her  glance  fixed 
on  the  door  through  which  madam  had  vanished. 
Then  she  went  up  to  John,  who  was  pocketing  his 
money  and  his  dark  bottle,  slowly  and  safely. 

"  John,"  said  the  girl  in  a  loud  whisper,  pulling 
at  his  sleeve  to  get  his  attention,  "  who  is  she  ?  " 

John's  only  answer  was  a  long  shake  of  the 
head. 

"But,"  insisted  Debby,  "how  came  you  with 
her?     That  you  surely  can  tell  me." 

John  surveyed  Debby  for  several  seconds  in 
silence  until  the  talking  mood,  which  was  rare  with 
him,  came  upon  him.  Then  he  opened  his  mouth 
—  it  was  a  broad  one  —  and  said : 

"  About  seven  o'clock  this  evening,  while  I  was 
a-settin'  at  father's  tavern  with  the  rest  of  the 
boys,  in  comes  mother  with  a  dame  who  was  strange 
to  us  all.  Mother,  speaking  to  us,  says,  '  This 
lady  wants  to  get  a  guide  to  go  with  her  to 
Billings's  to  meet  the  post  —  do  any  of  you  men 


MADAM  SARAH  KNIGHT.  81 

care  to  go  along  with  her,  for  a  sum  ?  '  At  first 
we  all  sat  staring  at  our  pewter  mugs,  at  mother, 
and  most  of  all  at  the  strange  clame  who  stood 
back,  holding  her  mask  before  her  face  and  looking 
half  as  if  she  did  not  like  the  scene  she  had  got 
into  and  half  as  if  she  did  not  care.  At  last  I, 
not  minding  the  thought  of  the  money,  and  wish- 
ing to  oblige  the  lady,  riz  and  says,  '  What  will 
you  give  me  to  go  with  you  ?  '  '  Give  you  ? '  says 
she,  looking  straight  at  me  and  almost  as  though 
she  could  see  through  me,  —  '  are  you  John  ?  '  says 
she.  '  Yes,'  says  I,  wondering  by  what  powers  of 
good  or  evil  she  had  divined  my  name  and  then 
thinking  perchance  my  mother  had  told  it  to  her. 
'John's  my  name  for  want  of  a  better,'  says  I. 
4  Well,  Mr.  John,'  says  she,  '  you  look  like  an 
honest  man  ;  make  your  demands.'  '  Why,  half  a 
piece  of  eight  and  a  dram  of  whiskey,'  says  I. 
4  Agreed,'  says  she.  She  gave  me  my  dram  on 
hand  and  while  I  drank  it  she  stood  by  the  hearth, 
warming  her  hands  and  making  a  handsome  pict- 
ure in  the  firelight." 

Here  John  paused,  surprised  by  his  own  elo- 
quence. 

"  Did  you  hold  much  speech  with  her  on  the 
road  ? "  inquired  Debby  with  interest.  She  had 
been  listening  intently  to  all  that  John  had  said 
and  her  curiosity  concerning  madam  was  grow- 
ing. 

"  Yes,  considerable,"  John  replied  rather  proudly. 


. 


82      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

"  I  told  her  the  adventures  I  had  passed  in  late  rid- 
ing and  the  dangers  I  had  escaped  and  she  said," 
added  John,  with  one  of  his  expansive  grins, 
"  that  she  guessed  I  must  be  a  prince  in  disguise." 

"  But  was  not  madam  herself  greatly  terrified  to 
be  riding  so  late  in  the  darkness  ? "  asked  Debby, 
shuddering  at  the  very  thought  and  haunted  by 
imaginings  of  wolves  prowling  along  forest  paths, 
naked  savages  shooting  from  behind  trees,  and 
swift-running  rivers  that  swept  horse  and  rider 
away.  For  beyond  the  towns  the  New  England 
of  Debby's  day  was  a  wilderness. 

"  Not  until  we  had  rid  about  an  hour,"  answered 
John.  "  Then  we  came  to  a  thick  swamp,  which 
very  much  startled  her,  especially  by  reason  of  the 
heavy  fog  which  made  the  darkness  so  great  that 
she  could  not  see  her  way  before  her,  as  she  said. 
Here  she  pulled  in  her  nag  and  declared  she  dared 
go  no  further.  But  I  bid  her  not  fear,  told  her  I 
had  crossed  a  thousand  such  swamps,  that  I  knew 
this  bne  well,  and  that  we  should  soon  be  over. 
Thereupon  she  rallied  her  courage,  gave  reins  to 
her  nag,  and  said  with  a  laugh  she  would  venture 
her  fate  in  the  swamp  rather  than  stay  to  perish 
like  ye  babes  in  the  wood." 

"  And  what  did  she  mean  by  that,  John  ? " 
queried  the  ever  curious  Debby. 

John  only  shook  his  head  by  way  of  reply.  Evi- 
dently he  was  not  very  well  versed  in  literature. 
He  was  pulling  on  his  cap  and  muffling  his  coat 


MADAM  SARAH  KNIGHT.  83 

about  him  preparatory  to  departure  and  had  already 
returned  to  his  taciturn  self. 

"  Without  doubt  she  is  brave,"  remarked  Debby 
half  to  herself.  "  But  I  like  not  these  mystifying 
ways,"  and  here  Debby  fell  to  rolling  the  corners 
of  her  apron  once  more  in  nervous  fashion.  An 
expression  of  fear  gradually  came  into  her  face. 
"Lawful  heart,  John!"  she  whispered,  growing 
suddenly  pale,  "  do  you  think  —  do  you  think  that 
perchance  she  may  be  a  —  witch  ?  " 

Master  John  sent  a  contemptuous  glance  in  the 
trembling  Debby's  direction.  "  Humph,"  said  he, 
and  opening  the  door  he  went  out  into  the  night. 

A  few  moments  later  Debby  crept  to  her  bed- 
chamber, and  when  she  fell  asleep  it  was  to  dream 
that  the  world  was  overrun  with  witches  in  scarlet 
cloaks  and  velvet  riding-masks. 

Meanwhile  the  lady  who  had  aroused  so  many 
doubts  and  tremors  in  Debby's  simple  mind  was 
sleeping  peacefully.  She  did  not  have  upon  her 
conscience,  as  Debby  had  feared,  any  witchcraft  sins 
to  disturb  her  slumbers.  Indeed,  for  all  her  strange 
and  unexplained  appearance,  there  was  nothing 
mysterious  about  her  ;  she  was  only  an  honored 
gentlewoman  of  Boston  town  travelling  to  New 
York  on  business. 

But  there  was  a  great  deal  that  is  remarkable 
about  her.  The  very  fact  of  her  journey  makes  her 
a  woman  worthy  of  note.  Travellers  in  petticoats 
were   not   so  common  then  as  nowadays.     Indeed 


A  -*'>-» 


4 


84      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

it  has  been  said  that  Madam  Knight,  for  this  was 
the  fair  traveller's  name,  was  probably  the  first 
woman  to  take  such  a  journey  on  horseback.  The 
lonely  woods  of  Massachusetts  and  Connecticut 
offered  many  terrors  and  "  startled  "  even  "  mascu- 
line courage."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  no  man  of 
New  England  dared  venture  twenty  miles  beyond 
the  limits  of  his  town  until  after  the  church  had 
offered  prayers  for  his  safety.  No  wonder  that 
madam's  feminine  courage  was  tried  on  her  long, 
difficult,  perilous  journey  and  that,  as  she  herself 
confessed,  she  sometimes  became  "  fearful."  Yet, 
in  spite  of  her  "  fearfulness,"  she  went  and  returned, 
protected  only  by  hired  guides,  or  the  western  post, 
or  such  travellers  as  she  chanced  to  meet  upon  her 
way ;  and  we  know  from  her  own  words  what  an 
interesting,  exciting,  trying  time  she  had  of  it. 
Her  journal  of  her  travels  has  come  down  to  us  and 
is  a  charming  bit  of  "  wit  and  wisdom." 

And  along  with  the  journal,  certain  historical 
facts  relating  to  the  author  have  descended,  so  that 
we  are  able  to  know  this  Madam  Sarah  Knight  of 
colonial  days  better  than  did  her  contemporary, 
Mistress  Debby  Billings.  We  learn  that  Sarah 
Knight  was  the  daughter  of  Captain  Thomas  Kem- 
ble  and  Elizabeth  Kemble  of  Boston  town.  The 
gravestones,  of  madam's  father  and  mother  are  still 
to  be  seen  in  the  old  Copp's  Hill  burying-ground. 
Her  father  was  a  prosperous  Boston  merchant.  He 
carried  on   an   extensive   trade   as   the  American 


MADAM  SARAH  KNIGHT.  85 

agent  for  a  London  firm  and  he  was  one  of  those 
to  whose  charge  the  Scotch  prisoners,  serving  as 
"indentured  servants,"  were  sent  over  after  Crom- 
well's victory  at  Dunbar. 

So  far  as  we  can  judge,  Captain  Kemble  was  a 
man  of  good  repute,  for  the  most  part  circumspect 
in  his  conduct.  Only  once  do  we  find  him  falling 
from  grace ;  and  this  is  remarkable,  for  grace,  as 
interpreted  by  his  Puritan  neighbors,  was  by  no 
means  easy  of  attainment.  Upon  that  one  occasion 
when  he  did  offend,  he  was  severely  reprimanded 
for  his  misdemeanor.  The  tell-tale  record  brands 
him  as  a  malefactor  and  informs  us  that  he  was  put 
in  the  stocks  two  hours  for  his  "  lewd  and  unseemly 
behavior,"  which  consisted  in  his  kissing  his  wife 
publicly  on  the  doorsteps  of  his  own  house  when 
he  had  just  returned  home  after  a  voyage  of  three 
years  ! 

Sarah  Kemble  Knight  was  Boston  born  and  Bos- 
ton  bred.  In  the  little  Puritan  city  she  grew  up 
with  her  numerous  brothers  and  sisters,  learning  to 
read  and  write  fluently,  probably  listening  every 
Sunday  to  the  preaching  of  the  great  Doctor  In- 
crease Mather,  and  perhaps — who  knows?  —  fall- 
ing in  love  with  one  of  her  father's  "indentured 
servants." 

But,  whatever  her  girlish  experiences  were,  we 
know  that  she  finally  married  a  Boston  man,  a  wid- 
ower, Mr.  Richard  Knight.  ISTothing  much  is  said 
of   Madam   Knight's   husband.     We   cannot  even 


86      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

be  sure  whether  he  were  dead  or  only  absent  in 
the  fall  of  the  year  1704,  when  she  set  out  on  her 
famous  journey  to  New  York.  That  she  styled  her- 
self as  "  widow  "  a  few  years  later  is  positive.  In- 
deed, she  might  have  been  one  long  before,  in  so  far 
as  any  influence  her  husband  had  upon  her  story. 

At  the  time  of  her  journey  Madam  Sarah  was 
living  with  her  widowed  mother  and  her  little 
daughter  Elizabeth  in  her  handsome  "mansion 
house  "  on  Moon  street,  near  New  North  square,  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  Mathers  and  not  far  from 
the  Franklins.  The  atmosphere  about  her  house 
must  have  been  rather  dreary,  monotonous,  and 
comparatively  unenlightened.  The  first  American 
newspaper,  the  "  Boston  News  Letter,"  had  just 
been  published.  Only  a  few  copies  were  printed 
once  a  week  and  each  copy  contained  but  four  or 
five  square  feet  of  reading  matter.  Madam's  li- 
brary cannot  have  been  especially  entertaining  or 
wholly  satisfactory  to  a  woman  of  her  brilliant 
fancy.  A  great  deal  of  the  best  English  literature 
was  as  yet  unwritten  or  unknown.  The  "  Specta- 
tor "  had  not  appeared,  nor  any  of  Pope's  verses. 
Dr.  Johnsqn  was  not  born  and  Shakspere  was  almost 
forgotten.  One  wonders  how  Madam  Knight  ever 
| kept  her  original  humor  and  lively  imagination, 
when  the  conversations  of  her  friends  the  Mathers, 
and  other  Puritan  divines,  their  sonorous  sermons, 
and  their  lugubrious  dissertations  on  witchcraft, 
were  the  chief  source  of  her  intellectual  life. 


MADAM  SARAH  KNIGHT.  87 

We  cannot  but  feel  some  indignation  against  the 
stern  Puritan  civilization  which  offered  no  en- 
couragement to  such  wit  as  Madam  Sarah's.  To 
be  sure,  her  talent  for  letters  ran  in  a  lighter  vein 
than  the  genius  of  those  about  her,  but  it  was  none 
the  less  a  talent  because  it  treated  of  other  matter 
than  that  of  theology  and  superstitious  belief. 
There  is  real  literary  merit  in  the  sprightly  pages 
of  her  journal. 

Her  journal  has  also  a  certain  historical  value. 
It  does  not  mention  any  important  events  or  noted 
people  of  that  day,  but  it  presents  a  vivacious 
picture  of  colonial  customs  and  gives  an  entertain- 
ing description  of  the  places  through  which  Madam 
Knight  passed  in  her  travels. 

Madam's  diary  does  not  tell  us  just  why  she 
made  her  journey.  We  only  know  that  she  went 
to  arrange  about  some  New  York  property  of  hers 
which,  it  is  supposed,  had  been  left  her  by  a  New 
York  relative.  Perhaps  too,  with  her  enterprising, 
energetic  nature,  she  may  have  had  a  wish  to  break 
through  her  narrow  boundaries,  to  meet  with 
adventures,  to  see  the  world,  even  though  in  so 
doing  she  must  climb  "  steep  and  rocky "  hills, 
cross  "  tottering  bridges,"  ford  "  hazardous  "  rivers, 
and  encounter  bears,  wolves,  and  savages. 

But  whatever  were  her  reasons  for  going,  she 
certainly  must  have  created  quite  a  stir  about  her 
quiet  New  England  home  on  that  October  after- 
noon, when,    dressed    in   her   brilliant   travelling- 

■■  ""4 


88     COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

costume  of  scarlet  and  green,  mounted  on  her 
horse,  and  accompanied  by  her  kinsman  Captain 
Robert  Luist,  her  first  guide,  she  started  on  her 
journey  and  rode  away,  waving  a  farewell  to  her 
friends  and  neighbors  who  had  gathered  in  her 
garden  to  wish  her  "  Godspeed." 

With  this  moment  of  departure  madam's  journal 
begins.  Captain  Luist,  she  tells  us,  accompanied 
her  as  far  as  the  Rev.  Mr.  Belcher's  house  at 
Dedham,  where  she  went  in  hopes  of  meeting  the 
western  post.  She  waited  there  until  evening,  but 
the  post  did  not  come.  Thereupon  madam,  noth- 
ing daunted,  determined  to  ride  on  to  "  Billingses," 
where  she  was  told  the  post  would  be  sure  to  lodge. 
It  was  then  that  she  made  her  appearance  at  the 
Dedham  tavern  and  found  a  guide  in  honest  John, 
who  so  gallantly  left  his  pewter  mug  to  escort  her 
to  the  house  of  Mistress  Debby  Billings.  And  the 
reception  which  Madam  Sarah  had  from  that  scary 
young  woman  is  historic. 

Madam  had  some  other  uncomfortable  times 
at  her  various  lodging-places  in  the  course  of  her 
travels  and  she  writes  of  her  tavern  experiences  in 
her  characteristically  amusing  and  abusive  fashion. 

Y She  often  found  the  food  which  was  put  before  her 

quite  unpalatable.  At  one  "  ordinary,"  as  a  tavern 
was  called  in  those  early  days,  "  a  woman  brought  in 
a  twisted  thing  like  a  cable  but  something  whiter," 
madam  records,  "and  laying  it  on  the  board 
tugged  for  life  to  bring  it  into  a  capacity  to  spread, 


MADAM  SARAH  KNIGHT.  89 


i 


which  having  with  great  pains  accomplished,  she 
served  a  dish  of  pork  and  cabbage,  I  suppose  the 
remains  of  dinner.  The  sauce  was  of  a  deep  purple 
which  I  tho't  was  boiled  in  her  dye  kettle ;  the 
bread  was  Indian  and  everything  on  the  table 
service  agreeable  to  those.  I  being  hungry,  got  a 
little  down,  but  my  stomach  was  soon  cloy'd." 

Upon  another  occasion  madam  was  even  more 
unfortunate  in  her  fare  and  could  not  get  even  "  a 
little  down." 

"  We  baited  our  horses,"  she  writes,  "  and  would 
have  eaten  a  morsel  ourselves  but  the  pumkin  and 
Indian  bread  had  such  an  aspect,  and  the  bare- 
legged punch  so  awkward  or  rather  awful  a 
sound  that  we  left  both  and  proceeded  forward." 

Indeed,  her  epicurean  taste  was  sorely  tried  by 
these  "  ordinary "  tables  and  her  love  of  comfort 
was  equally  annoyed  by  the  "wretched"  beds 
upon  which  she  was  forced  to  sleep.  She  found 
the  "  ordinary  "  beds  distressingly  high  and  as  hard 
as  they  were  high ;  the  coverlets  were  often 
"scanty"  and,  concerning  the  linen,  she  remarks 
with  delicate  insinuation  of  its  dinginess  that  it 
was  "  sad  colored." 

Here  is  a  pathetic  glimpse  of  Madam  Sarah 
passing  the  night  at  a  wayside  inn  where  the  food 
was  so  poor  that  she  could  not  eat  and  the  bed  so 
bad  that  she  could  not  sleep  and  where  her  room 
was  shared,  as  was  the  custom  of  the  time,  by  the  . 
guides  who  travelled  with  her :  "  Riding  till  about 


' 


90     COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

nine,"  she  says,  "we  arrived  and  took  np  our  lodg- 
ings at  an  ordinary  which  a  French  family  kept. 
Here,  being  very  hungry,  I  desired  a  fricassee, 
which  the  Frenchman,  undertaking,  managed  so 
contrary  to  my  notion  of  cookery  that  I  hastened 
to  bed  supperless ;  arriving  at  my  apartment  I 
found  it  to  be  furnished,  amongst  other  rubbish, 
with  a  high  bed,  a  low  one,  a  long  table,  a  bench, 
and  a  bottomless  chair.  Little  Miss  went  to 
scratch  up  my  kennell  which  rustled  as  if  she  'd 
been  in  the  barn  amongst  the  husks  and  suppose 
such  was  the  contents  of  the  tickin'.  Nevertheless, 
being  exceedingly  weary,  down  I  laid  my  poor 
carkes  (never  more  tired)  and  found  my  covering 
as  scanty  as  my  bed  was  hard.  Anon  I  heard 
another  rustling  noise  in  ye  room,  called  to  know 
the  matter.  Little  Miss  said  she  was  making  a 
bed  for  the  men;  who,  when  they  were  in  bed 
complained  their  leggs  lay  out  of  it  by  reason  of  its 
shortness.  My  poor  bones  complained  bitterly,  not 
being  used  to  such  lodgings  and  so  did  the  man 
who  was  with  us ;  and  poor  I  made  but  one  grone 
which  was  from  the  time  I  went  to  bed  to  the  time 
I  riss,  which  was  about  three  in  the  morning,  set- 
ting up  by  the  fire  till  light." 
r~~  Sometimes  when  bed  and  board  were  both  satis- 
factory, madam  had  yet  another  cause  for  annoy- 
ance. The  people  who  frequented  these  ordinaries, 
where  she  was  obliged  to  lodge,  were  not  always 
of  the  nicest  sort.     There  was  among  them  a  good 


MADAM  SARAH  KNIGHT.  91 

deal  of  drinking  and  brawling  and  some  of  their 
conversations,  to  quote  Madam  Sarah's  own  expres- 
sion, "  are  not  proper  to  be  related  by  a  female 
pen."  When  madam  found  their  talk  and  behavior 
unbearable  she  would  quietly  "  slip  out  and  enter 
her  mind  in  her  journal,"  by  way  of  consolation.      --, 

Occasionally  the  noise  of  these  tavern  roisterers 
kept  her  awake  after  she  had  retired  for  the  night. 
One  evening  in  particular  she  could  get  no  sleep 
because  of  the  clamor  of  some  of  the  town  topers 
in  the  next  room.  The  "  town  topers,"  it  seems, 
were  discussing  the  meaning  of  the  name  of  their 
country  (Narragansett),  and  one  of  their  number 
grew  especially  vehement  and  upheld  his  side  of 
the  argument  "  with  a  thousand  imprecations  not 
worth  notice,  which  he  uttered  with  such  a  roreing 
voice  and  thundering  blows  with  the  fist  of  wicked- 
ness on  the  table  that  it  pierced  my  head.  I  heart- 
ily fretted,"  continues  poor  madam,  "  and  wished 
'em  tongue  tyed ;  but  with  little  success.  They 
kept  calling  for  t'other  Gill,  which,  while  they 
were  swallowing,  was  some  intermission,  but  pres- 
ently like  oyle  to  fire,  increased  the  flame.  I  set 
my  candel  on  a  chest  by  the  bedside  and  setting 
up,  fell  to  my  old  way  of  composing  my  resent- 
ments in  the  following  manner  : 

"  '  I  ask  thy  aid ,  O  Potent  Rum  ! 

To  charm  these  wrangling  topers  dum 
Thou  hast  their  Giddy  Braines  possest 
The  man  confounded  with  the  Beast  — 


L— j' 


92    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS, 

And  I,  poor  I,  can  get  no  rest 

Intoxicate  them  with  thy  fumes  : 

O  still  their  tongues  till  morning  comes !  ' 

"  And  I  know  not  but  my  wishes  took  effect,"  she 
adds  exultantly,  "  for  the  dispute  soon  ended  with 
'other  dram  ;  and  so  good-night !  " 

Surely  the  entertainment  which  Madam  Knight 
had  at  the  taverns  along  her  route  was  not  always 
of  the  most  enjoyable  sort.  Yet  such  as  it  was,  it 
was  better  than  none,  as  madam  herself  realized 
upon  those  occasions  when  hospitality  was  denied 
•  her.  For  there  were  a  few  places  where  madam 
and  her  guides  were  not  even  admitted  and  madam 
could  do  nothing  but  depart  in  indignation  and, 
at  the  first  opportunity,  "  compose  her  resentment " 
on  paper.  She  is  quite  eloquent  in  her  "  resent- 
ments "  and  we  cannot  but  admire  her  mastery  of 
uncomplimentary  expression.  Once  it  was  a  "  surly 
old  she-creature  not  worthy  the  name  of  woman 
who  would  hardly  let  us  go  into  her  door,  though 
the  weather  was  so  stormy  none  but  she  would 
have  turned  out  a  Dogg."  And,  at  another  time, 
the  house  of  a  Mr.  Da  vol,  or  Devil,  as  she  point- 
edly spelled  it,  was  the  "  habitation  of  cruelty." 

"  I  questioned,"  remarks  madam,  with  light  irony, 
"  whether  we  ought  to  go  to  the  Devil  to  be  helpt 
out  of  affliction.  However,  like  the  rest  of  De- 
luded Souls  that  past  to  ye  Infernal  denn,  we 
made  all  possible  speed  to  this  Devil's  Habitation ; 
where,  alighting,  in  full  assurance  of  good  accom- 


) 


~J 


MADAM  SARAH  KNIGHT.  93 

modation,  we  were  going  in.  But  meeting  his  two 
daughters,  as  I  supposed  twins,  they  so  nearly 
resembled  each  other,  both  in  features  and  habit 
and  look't  as  old  as  the  Divel  himself  and  quite 
as  ugly,  we  desired  entertainment,  but  could  hardly 
get  a  word  out  of  'urn,  till  with  our  importunity, 
telling  them  our  necessity,  etc.,  they  call'd  the 
old  Sophister  who  was  as  sparing  of  his  words  as 
his  daughters  had  bin  and  no  or  none  was  the  reply 
he  made  to  our  demands.  He  differed  only  in  this 
from  the  old  fellow  in  t'  other  country ;  he  let  us 
depart." 

However,  madam's  troubles  on  her  journey  were 
not  confined  to  taverns  and  surly  tavern  keepers. 
The  road  itself  caused  her  much  anxiety  and 
terror.  Often,  while  she  was  riding  along  in  the 
darkness,  she  fancied  "  each  lifeless  Trunk  with  its  K 
shattered  Limbs  "  was  "  an  armed  Engine  "  and 
every  little  stump  a  "  Ravenous  devourer."  And 
when  she  knew  that  there  was  a  river  ahead  which 
must  be  crossed  "no  thoughts  but  those  of  the 
dang'rous  River  could  entertain  her  imagination." 
Sometimes  she  saw  herself  "  drowning,  otherwhiles 
drowned,  and  at  the  best  like  a  holy  sister  just 
come  out  of  a  Spiritual  Bath  in  dripping  Garments." 
She  had  as  little  confidence  in  a  canoe  as  some 
anxious  fathers  and  mothers  have  in  these  modern 
days  and  she  has  left  a  vivid  description  of  her  first 
trip  in  that  "  ticklish  Indian  vehicle." 

"  The    canoe,"  she  says,    "  was  very  small   and 


^  a.  v 


94     COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

shallow  so  that,  when  we  were  in,  she  seemed 
re'dy  to  take  in  water  which  greatly  terrified  me 
and  caused  me  to  be  very  circumspect,  sitting  with 
my  hands  fast  on  each  side,  my  eyes  steady,  not 
daring  so  mach  as  to  lodge  my  tongue  a  hair's 
breadth  more  on  one  side  of  my  mouth  than  t'other, 
nor  so  much  as  think  on  Lott's  wife,  for  a  wry 
thought  would  have  oversett  our  wherey." 

Amid  such  fears  as  these  of  capsizing  canoes, 
hazardous  rivers,  armed  enemies,  and  ravenous 
devourers,  madam  retained  her  dauntless,  venture- 
some spirit.  What  her  guides  dared,  she  dared 
also  and  although  she  sometimes  hesitated  and 
grew  "  fearful,"  she  always  managed  to  u  rally  her 
courage  "  and  go  bravely  on. 

She  used  to  find  it  a  great  comfort  in  her 
perilous  travels  to  indulge  her  imagination.  She 
liked  to  fancy  that  the  moonlight  had  transformed 
the  forest  trees  into  a  "  sumptuous  city  filled  with 
famous  Buildings,  churches  with  their  spiring 
steeples,  Balconies  and  Galleries  "  and  she  invested 
this  visionary  city  with  "  grandeurs  "  of  which  she 
had  heard  and  of  which  she  had  read  in  the  stories 
of  foreign  lands.  Often,  when  the  time  was  favor- 
able to  poetic  thought,  she  would  "  drop  into 
poetry "  and  compose  verses  upon  the  moon,  or 
poverty  or  any  subject  that  happened  to  inspire 
her.  And  while  she  was  entertaining  herself  in 
this  agreeable  fashion,  she  forgot  her  "  weariness 
and  toils  "  and  was  only  roused  from  her  "  pleasing 


(J 


MADAM  SARAH  KNIGHT.  95 

imaginations  "  by  the  post  sounding  his  horn. 
That  sound  of  the  post's  horn,  madam  declared, 
was  the  sweetest  music  in  her  ears,  for  it  meant 
that  they  had  arrived  at  their  night's  lodging  and 
that  her  journey  for  that  day  was  ended. 

It  must  have  been  a  great  relief  to  Madam 
Knight  when  she  came  to  the  large  towns  of  New 
Haven  and  New  York  and  found  friends  and  rela- 
tives who  treated  her  to  such  comfort  and  hospital- 
ity as  she  had  not  enjoyed  at  the  taverns  along  the 
way.  She  visited  in  each  of  these  towns  several 
weeks,  observing  and  commenting  upon  the  man- 
ners and  customs  of  the  people  and  delighting  to 
compare  all  things  in  both  places  with  "  ours  in 
Boston."  At  that  time  Boston  was  the  big  city 
—  it  had  a  population  of  ten  thousand,  while  New 
York  was  only  half  as  large. 

The  people  of  New  Haven  and  of  the  Connecticut 
Colony  in  general,  madam  decides,  are  too  inde- 
pendent in  some  ways  and  too  rigid  in  others.  She 
is  shocked  at  their  leniency  in  regard  to  divorce. 
"  These  uncomely  Standaways,"  she  says,  "  are  too 
much  in  vogue  among  the  English  in  this  indulgent 
colony,  as  their  records  plentifully  prove  and  that 
on  very  trivial  matters."  She  thinks  that  they  are 
also  too  familiar  with  their  slaves  and  complains 
that  "  into  the  dish  goes  the  black  hoof  as  freely  as 
the  white  hand."  It  might  be  stated,  parentheti- 
cally, that  table  manners  cannot  have  been  very 
elegant  in  Madam  Knight's  day.     But  she  wonders 


/ 


96      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

that  they  should  be  so  severe  as  regards  a  harmless 
kiss  and  innocent  merriment  among  young  people. 
And  she  tells  of  an  amusing  custom  in  practise  at 
their  weddings,  where  the  bridegroom  runs  away, 
is  pursued  by  the  bridesmen,  and  dragged  back  "  to 
duty."  Her  opinion  is  that  the  people  of  New 
Haven  are  a  rather  awkward,  countrified  set.  She 
judges  them  according  to  her  critical  Boston 
standard  and  thinks  they  show  the  lack  of  educa- 
tion and  conversation. .  "  Their  want  of  improve- 
ments," she  says,  "renders  them  almost  ridiculous," 
and  to  illustrate  the  truth  of  her  statement  she 
gives  a  vivid  description  of  a  scene  in  a  New  Haven 
merchant's  house,  which  served  as  his  "  shop." 

"  In  comes  a  tall  country  fellow,"  she  records, 
"  with  his  Alfogeos  full  of  Tobacco.  He  advanced 
to  the  middle  of  the  room,  makes  an  awkward  nodd 
and  spitting  a  large  deal  of  Aromatic  Tincture,  he 
gave  a  scrape  with  his  shovel-like  shoe,  leaving  a 
small  shovel-full  of  dirt  on  the  floor,  made  a  full 
stop,  hugging  his  own  pretty  body  with  his  hands 
under  his  arms,  stood  staring  round  him  like  a  catt 
let  out  of  a  basket.  At  last,  like  the  creature  Balaam 
rode  on,  he  opened  his  mouth  and  said  '  Have  you 
any  ribinnes  for  hat  bands  to  sell,  I  pray?J  The 
questions  and  answers  about  the  pay  being  past, 
the  ribin  is  bro't  and  opened.  Bumpkin  simpers, 
cryes,  '  It 's  confounded  gay,  I  vow,'  and  beckons  to 
the  door.  In  comes  Joan  Tawdry,  dropping  about 
fifty  curtsies,  and  stands  by  him.     He  shows  her 


M 


MADAM  SARAH  KNIGHT.  97 

the   ribin.     '  Law  you,'  says  she,   '  it 's  right  gent ; 
do  you   take  it,  it 's   dreadful  pretty.'     Then  she 
enquires,    '  Have    you   any   hood    silk,    I    pray  ? ' 
Which,  being  brought  and  bought,  '  Have  you  any      J 
thread   silk   to  sew   it   with  ? '   says    she.     Which     / 
being  accommodated  with,  they  departed." 

In  New  York  madam  found  the  people  more 
to  her  liking.  "  They  are  '  sociable  '  and  '  court- 
eous,' "  she  says.  And  she  remarks  that  "  they  are 
not  so  strick  in  keeping  the  Sabbath  as  in  Boston  " 
and  that  "they  treat  with  good  liquor  literally." 
Neither  of  these  facts  at  all  disturbed  Madam 
Sarah ;  the  merry  dame  from  Boston  town  had 
little  of  the  puritanical  about  her.  She  speaks  with 
enthusiasm  of  the  fine  sleighing  in  the  little  Dutch 
capital  and  "the  houses  of  entertainment  at  a 
place  called  the  Bowery."  The  "Bowery"  of  those 
days  was  highly  respectable  and  well  calculated  to 
please  a  person  of  Madam  Sarah's  aristocratic  tastes. 
Madam  herself  went  sleighing  with  her  New  York 
friends,  passed  fifty  or  sixty  swift-driving  "  slays  " 
on  the  way,  and  stopped  at  a  farmhouse  where 
they  met  with  "handsome  entertainment."  On 
the  whole,  Madame  Knight  enjoyed  her  fortnight's 
stay  in  New  York  immensely  and  left  the  "  pleasant 
city,"  as  she  herself  declared,  "with  no  little 
regret." 

Difficult  as  madam's  journey  to  New  York  had 
been,  her  journey  home  was  even  more  so.  For  it 
was  midwinter  when  she  came  to  return  and  the 


98      COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

cold,  the  storms  of  wind  and  snow,  and  the  ice  on 
the  rivers  added  to  her  fears  and  discomforts.  She 
was  a  joyful  and  much  relieved  woman  when,  on 
the  third  of  March,  after  an  absence  of  five  months, 
she  reached  home  in  safety  and  found  her  "  tender" 
mother  and  her  "dear  and  only  child,  with  open 
arms,  ready  to  receive  her  "  and  her  friends  "  flock- 
ing in  "  to  welcome  her.  We  can  imagine  with  what 
interest  and  sympathy  all  gathered  round  to  hear 
the  tale  of  her  travels,  how  they  praised  her  for 
her  perseverance  and  courage,  and  how  even 
Cotton  Mather  smiled  over  the  amusing  parts  of 
her  narrative. 

But  Madam  Knight's  story  of  her  journey  can- 
not have  been  any  more  entertaining  to  her  relatives 
and  friends  than  it  is  to  us  who  read  it  looking 
back  across  two  hundred  years  of  change  and 
progress.  It  is  the  quaintness  and  remoteness  of 
Madam  Knight  and  her  journal  that  especially 
interest  us.  Our  world  is  so  different  from  hers. 
The  Shore  Line  Express  now  carries  us  in  a  few 
hours  over  the  same  road  upon  which  she  spent 
so  many  weary  days  and  nights.  Pleasant  pasture 
lands  have  taken  the  place  of  the  great  forests 
which  used  to  terrify  her.  Big  cities  have  grown 
out  of  the  little  one-tavern  towns  where  she  often 
went  supperless  to  bed.  Indeed,  the  very  "  grand- 
eurs," which  she  imagined  in  the  woods  on  those 
moonlight  nights  have  come  to  pass  and  the 
"  famous  buildings,"  the   "  churches  with   spiring 


n 


r& 


MADAM  SARAH  KNIGHT.  99 

steeples,"  the  "  Balconies,"  and  "  Galleries  "  of  her 
dream  are  now  more  real  than  the  far-away,  primi- 
tive world  of  her  journal. 

Fortunately,  our  knowledge  of  Madam  Knight 
does  not  end  with  her  journal  of  her  travels.  In 
her  later  days  she  continued  to  be  remarkable. 
We  realize  the  extent  of  her  energy  and  literary 
ability  when  we  learn  that,  soon  after  her  return 
from  her  trip  to  New  York,  she  opened  a  school  in 
her  handsome  house  on  Moon  street.  She  be- 
came quite  celebrated  in  her  new  capacity  ;  in  those 
days  a  schoolmistress  was  almost  as  great  a  rarity 
as  a  traveller  in  petticoats.  Among  her  pupils 
she  numbered  no  less  a  personage  than  Benjamin 
Franklin.  Samuel  Mather  was  another  of  her 
scholars.  And  it  was  a  Mather  of  a  later  generation, 
Mrs.  Hannabell  Crocker,  who  called  Madam  Knight 
an  "  original  genius  "  and  said  her  ideas  of  that 
talented  lady  were  formed  from  having  heard  Dr. 
Franklin  and  Dr.  Mather  converse  about  their  old 
schoolmistress.  One  would  like  to  see  that  "  old 
schoolmistress  "  as  she  appeared  to  the  two  learned 
doctors,  when  they  were  small  boys  blotting  their 
copy  books,  mispronouncing  the  big  words  in  their 
primers,  and  trembling  at  the  awful  birch  that 
hung  behind  madam's  stiff-backed  chair.  She 
scolded  them,  we  may  be  sure,  and  used  for  their 
benefit  some  of  her  wonderful  abusive  language. 
But  we  know  she  must  have  smiled  as  well  and 
told  them  funny  stories ;  even  in  the  school-room 


• 


^ 


100   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

Madam  Knight  cannot  have  missed  the  humor- 
ous. 

Madam  Knight  did  not  end  her  days  as  a  school- 
mistress nor  as  a  resident  of  Boston  town.  When 
her  daughter  married  and  went  to  live  in  New 
London,  madam  followed  her  there  and  spent  the 
rest  of  her  life  either  in  New  London  or  at  Norwich. 
She  owned  several  farms  in  New  London,  but  her 
dwelling-house  and  the  church  which  she  attended 
were  at  Norwich.  It  is  recorded  that  she  gave  a 
silver  communion  cup  to  the  Norwich  church  and 
the  town,  in  gratitude  for  her  gift,  voted  her  per- 
mission "  to  sit  in  the  pew  where  she  used  to 
sit." 

In  both  Norwich  and  New  London  madam  seems 
to  have  been  highly  respected  for  her  many  excel- 
lent qualities,  but  we  find  one  black  mark  against 
her  name  which  reminds  us  of  her  father's  "  lewd 
and  unseemly  behavior."  She  is  accused  by  those 
scrupulous  Puritan  records  of  "  selling  strong 
drinks  to  the  Indians." 

At  the  Livingston  farm  in  New  London  on  the 
Norwich  road  madam  is  reported  to  have  kept 
"  entertainment  for  travellers  "  and  it  was  at  this 
farm  that  she  died.  So  the  last  character  in  which 
she  appeared  was  that  of  an  inn-keeper.  No  doubt 
hers  was  a  model  ordinary,  free  from  clamorous 
town  topers,  mountainous  beds  with  sad-colored 
pillows,  fricassees  that  could  not  be  swallowed, 
pumpkin  and  Indian  mixed  bread  of  dreadful  aspect, 


MADAM  SARAH  KNIGHT.  101 

bare-legged  punch  of  awful  sound,  and  the  host  of 
other  tavern  ills  from  which  she  herself  had 
suffered.  And  we  may  well  believe  that  many  a 
weary,  hungry  traveller  had  cause  to  bless  the 
pleasant  farm  on  the  Norwich  road  and  the  tidy, 
smiling,  bustling  genius  of  the  place,  Madam  Sarah 
Knight. 


ELIZA   LUCAS,    OF    CHARLESTON, 

AFTERWARDS    WIFE    OF    CHIEF-JUSTICE    CHARLES 
PINCKNEY. 


Born  on  the  island  of  Antigua  in  1723. 
Died  at  Philadelphia,  May  24,  1793. 


"  A  woman  of  character  and  capacity  who,  in  a  private  sta- 
tion, by  her  enterprise  and  perseverance,  conferred  a  great 
benefit  upon  her  adopted  home." —  Harriott  Horry  Ravenel. 

The  tall  clock  in  the  library  corner  struck 
eleven.  Colonel  Pinckney  looked  up  from  his 
book  to  listen,  while  Mrs.  Pinckney,  his  wife,  and 
her  niece,  Miss  Bartlett,  stopped  in  their  needle- 
work as  if  waiting  for  something  to  happen.  But 
nothing  did  happen  and  Miss  Bartlett  made  a 
grimace  at  the  clock's  face  as  she  remarked  in  a 
tone  of  mingled  regret  and  protest: 

"  I  fear  our  dear  Miss  Lucas  must  have  decided 
not  to  honor  us  this  morning.  Surely  she  would 
have  been  here  by  now,  if  she  were  coming,  for 
she  never  allows  herself  the  luxury  of  being  late." 

"  Our  dear  Miss  Lucas,"  echoed  the  colonel 
from  the  depths  of  his  book,  "  has  doubtless  found 

103 


104   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

her  indigo,  ginger,  and  cotton  too  engrossing  to 
resign  them  for  the  pleasure  of  our  company." 

"  Indigo,  ginger,  and  cotton,  indeed,"  exclaimed 
Miss  Bartlett,  impatiently,  "  I  vow,  Miss  Lucas 
loves  the  vegetable  world  too  dearly  if  she  must 
neglect  her  friends  for  it.  Her  devotion  to  agricul- 
ture amounts  to  a  passion.  To  me  such  a  taste 
seems  almost  unfeminine."  And  Miss  Bartlett 
returned  to  her  embroidery  with  a  virtuous  air,  as 
if  anxious  to  prove  her  own  unassailable  fem- 
ininity. 

"Not  unfeminine,"  protested  her  aunt,  who 
never  could  bear  to  hear  a  word  of  criticism  passed 
upon  her  young  friend.  "  I  consider  Eliza's  gar- 
dening a  very  innocent  and  useful  amusement, 
and  other  girls  who  trifle  away  their  time  in  vain 
pursuits  would  do  well "  — 

Here  Mrs.  Pinckney's  remarks,  which  to  her 
niece's  apprehensive  ears  bore  promise  of  a  ser- 
mon, were  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  a  light, 
firm  footstep  ringing  along  the  flagstone  hall. 

"  '  T  is  Eliza !  "  they  all  exclaimed  together,  and 
the  next  moment  a  fair-haired,  blue-eyed  English 
girl  was  standing  in  the  doorway.  Her  calash,  the 
fashionable  large  bonnet  of  the  day,  had  fallen 
back  and  showed  all  her  bright,  sunny  locks,  while 
her.  long,  flowing  cloak,  parting,  disclosed  her 
gown  of  blue  taffety  and  her  shining  white  arms 
and  neck.  Her  eyes  danced  with  pleasure  as  she 
looked  from  one  to  another  of  her  three  friends. 


ELIZA    LUCAS.  105 

"I  am  a  little  late,"  she  said  apologetically, 
courtesying  to  the  colonel  and  his  wife,  and  affec- 
tionately returning  Miss  Bartlett's  embrace. 

"  Yes,  we  feared  you  were  not  coming  at  all, 
and  stayed  away  because  you  loved  your  garden 
better  than  your  friends,"  declared  Miss  Bartlett, 
with  a  reproving  look. 

"You  have  been  roundly  scolded,  my  dear,"  re- 
marked Mrs.  Pinckney,  "and  I  have  been  endeav- 
oring to  defend  you  and  your  garden  to  the  colonel 
and  my  niece,  though  I  must  confess  to  have  been 
a  little  jealous  myself  of  your  indigo,  ginger,  and 
cotton." 

The  colonel  led  his  young  guest  to  a  chair  and 
helped  her  to  remove  her  cloak. 

"  How  is  the  little  visionary  ?  "  he  inquired  with 
a  quiet,  merry  smile.  "  Has  she  come  to  town  to 
partake  of  some  of  the  amusements  suitable  to  her 
time  of  life  ?  " 

"  I  see  you  have  all  conspired  to  tease  me  about 
what  you  are  pleased  to  call  my  '  whims,' "  re- 
torted Miss  Eliza,  with  a  toss  of  her  pretty  head ; 
"  but  I  warn  you  if  you  do  not  show  greater  re- 
spect for  my  schemes  I  will  not  tell  you  my  latest." 

"  Oh,  pray  tell  us,"  they  all  exclaimed.  "  We 
will  promise  to  be  very  kind  and  considerate," 
added  Mrs.  Pinckney. 

Eliza  shook  her  head  and  smoothed  her  bonnet 
strings  meditatively.  "No,  Mrs.  Pinckney,"  she 
said,  "not   even  you,    I   fear,    can   be   kind   and 


106    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

considerate  to  this  last  one.  But,"  and  she  looked 
up  with  a  bright  smile,  "  I  am  not  the  one  to  spoil 
a  joke,  even  at  my  own  cost.  You  will  all  laugh 
when  I  tell  you  I  am  so  busy  providing  for  pos- 
terity I  hardly  allow  myself  time  to  eat  and 
sleep." 

"  Or  to  visit  your  friends,"  put  in  the  colonel 
with  a  merry  twinkle. 

"  Or  to  visit  my  friends,"  assented  Eliza,  gayly. 
"  But  hear  my  scheme :  I  am  making  a  large  plan- 
tation of  oaks,  with  a  view  to  the  future,  when  oaks 
will  be  more  valuable  than  they  are  now." 

"  Which  will  be  when  we  come  to  build  fleets,  I 
presume,"  said  the  colonel,  and  the  twinkle  still 
lingered  in  his  eyes. 

"  Yes,  when  we  come  to  build  fleets,"  she  affirmed 
stoutly.  "  Ah !  I  knew  you  would  laugh  at  me, 
Colonel  Pinckney.  But  I  do  not  care.  My  whims 
and  projects  will  turn  out  well  by  and  by.  You 
shall  see.     Out  of  many  surely  one  may  hit." 

Colonel  Pinckney  smiled  approvingly  on  the 
young  enthusiast, 

"  You  have  a  fertile  brain  for  scheming,  little 
visionary,"  he  remarked,  and  Eliza  felt  flattered 
without  quite  understanding  why. 

"  I  have  brought  back  the  books  you  lent  me, 
Colonel  Pinckney,"  she  said,  diving  into  her  cloak's 
ample  pockets  and  bringing  out  three  good-sized 
volumes,  —  a  Virgil,  Richardson's  "  Pamela,"  and 
an  ancient-looking  law  book.     "  I  return  them  with 


ELIZA    LUCAS.  107 

thanks,"  she  continued.  "  I  was  much  entertained 
by  them,"  and  crossing  over  to  his  table  she  laid 
them  down  beside  him. 

"  And  did  you  find  Virgil  as  good  company  as  I 
promised  you  ?  "  he  inquired,  looking  with  interest 
into  her  animated  face. 

"  Better,"  was  the  decided  answer.  "  I  have  got 
no  further  than  the  first  volume,  but  so  far  I  am 
agreeably  disappointed.  I  imagined  I  should  im- 
mediately enter  upon  battles,  storms,  and  tempests 
that  would  put  me  in  a  maze,  but,"  and  her  eyes 
began  to  dance,  "  I  found  myself  instructed  in 
agriculture.  Virgil  is  quite  of  my  mind.  He 
loves  the  country.  His  pastorals  are  beautiful,  I 
think." 

"  Still  harping  on  agriculture,"  exclaimed  Miss 
Bartlett,  with  a  despairing  sigh. 

"  Yes,  and  so  would  you,"  laughed  Eliza,  sitting 
down  beside  her  friend,  "if  you  had  travelled 
through  the  meadows  as  I  have  this  morning,  and 
srnelled  the  scent  of  the  young  myrtle  and  seen 
the  violets  and  jasmines  in  bloom." 

"  Oh,  I  do  love  that  phase  of  '  agriculture,' " 
protested  Miss  Bartlett.  "  'T  is  only  your  passion 
for  planting  I  cannot  comprehend.  Tell  me,  has 
the  mocking-bird  begun  his  songs  yet?" 

"  Yes,"  exclaimed  Eliza,  with  a  little  ripple  of 
delight,  "  and  such  sweet  harmonies  !  He  would 
win  one  into  a  love  of  nature  if  naught  else 
could." 


108    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

Colonel  Pinckney  turned  about  in  his  chair  and 
surveyed  Eliza  with  an  expression  of  amused 
wonder. 

"  I  wish  you  would  give  me  your  recipe  for 
making  time,"  he  said.  "  A  young  woman  who 
reads  Virgil's  pastorals,  Richardson's  latest  senti- 
mental novel,  and  Dr.  Wood  on  law,  who  starts  a 
large  plantation  of  oaks,  who  runs  numerous  other 
plantations  of  indigo,  ginger,  cotton,  figs,  etc.,  and 
has  still  time  enough  left  to  listen  to  the  mocking- 
bird,—  such  a  young  woman  must  surely  have 
some  magical  influence  over  old  Cronos.  How  do 
you  ever  manage  it,  little  visionary  ?  " 

Eliza  laughed  merrily. 

"  By  early  rising,"  she  answered.  "  You  know 
I  am  up  every  morning  at  five.  An  old  gentle- 
woman in  our  neighborhood  is  often  quarrelling 
with  me  for  being  up  so  early.  She  is  in  great 
fear  lest  it  should  spoil  my  chances  for  marriage. 
For  she  says  it  will  make  me  old  before  I  am 
young." 

"  I  imagine  that  sort  of  apprehension  does  not 
frighten  you,"  Mrs.  Pinckney  remarked  smilingly. 

"  No,  indeed,"  declared  Eliza,  with  a  determined 
shake  of  the  head.  "  I  told  her  if  I  should  look 
older  for  rising  early,  I  really  would  be  older, 
for  the  longer  we  are  awake  the  longer  we  are 
alive." 

"  That  is  unmistakably  good  logic,"  agreed  Mrs. 
Pinckney,  "but  you  know  the  Pinckney  motto  for 


ELIZA    LUCAS.  109 

you  has  always  been  '  Work  less  and  play  more.' 
We  are  of  the  old  gentlewoman's  opinion  ;  we  want 
you  to  be  young  before  you  are  old." 

"  And  }^et  't  was  you  yourself,  Mrs.  Pinckney, 
and  your  niece  here  who  put  me  to  the  difficult 
task  of  working  on  lappets." 

"  Oh,  how  have  you  come  on  with  yours  ?  "  in- 
quired Miss  Bartlett,  with  the  proud  consciousness 
that  her  own  lappets  were  lying  beautifully  finished 
in  her  chest  of  drawers  upstairs. 

Eliza  sighed.  "  I  find  them  but  slow  work,"  she 
said.  "  And  you  know  I  can  never  go  to  them 
with  a  quite  easy  conscience.  My  father  has  such 
an  aversion  to  my  employing  my  time  in  needle- 
work." 

"  I  confess  I  rather  share  in  your  father's  aver- 
sion to  the  needle,  Miss  Eliza,"  declared  the  colonel, 
"  and  never  see  ladies  talking  over  their  work  with- 
out suspecting  they  are  hatching  mischief." 

"  Oh,  fie,  uncle,"  exclaimed  Miss  Bartlett.  "  For 
shame  !  How  can  you  be  so  ungallant  ?  Come, 
dear  Miss  Lucas,  let  us  leave  him  to  aunt's  regen- 
erating influence,  and  you  shall  go  with  me  and 
see  my  lappets." 

And  accordingly  the  girls  made  their  courtesies 
and  withdrew. 

Upstairs,  in  Miss  Bartlett's  little  blue  and  white 
bedroom,  the  lappets  were  displayed  to  advantage, 
and  duly  admired.  Then  the  two  friends  sat  to- 
gether  upon  the  broad  window  seat  and  entered 


110   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

into  one  of  those  confidential  chats  peculiar  to 
young  girls. 

Presently  Eliza  drew  a  folded  piece  of  paper 
from  her  gown,  and  waved  it  before  her  friend  just 
out  of  arms'  reach. 

"  What  is  it,  a  love  letter  ? "  exclaimed  Miss 
Bartlett,  her  curiosity  immediately  aroused. 

Eliza  laughed,  shook  her  head,  but  said  nothing 
and  continued  to  flourish  the  paper  tantalizingly 
in  the  air.  Finally,  however,  after  much  coax- 
ing from  Miss  Bartlett,  she  said,  a  little  shame- 
facedly : 

"  This  morning,  while  I  was  lacing  my  stays, 
the  mocking-bird  inspired  me  with  the  spirit  of 
rhyming." 

"Then  'tis  a  bit  of  poetry  you  have  there?" 
exclaimed  Miss  Bartlett,  catching  Eliza's  arm. 
"  Give  it  me,"  she  commanded.  "  You  promised 
me  your  next  verse." 

Eliza  gave  it  up  reluctantly. 

"  If  you  let  any  mortal  besides  yourself  see  it " 
—  she  began,  pausing  for  lack  of  a  threat  terrible 
enough. 

But  Miss  Bartlett  was  resolving  secretly  to  show 
it  to  her  aunt  and  uncle  at  the  first  opportunity. 
She  read  it  first  to  herself,  and  then  aloud  in  an 
impressive  voice  : 

"  Sing  on,  thou  charming  mimic  of  the  feathered  kind, 
And  let  the  rational  a  lesson  learn  from  thee 
To  mimic  (not  defects)  but  harmony." 


ELIZA    LUCAS.  Ill 

"  What  a  clever  girl  you  are,"  she  exclaimed 
admiringly,  as  she  finished  it,  "  to  turn  so  easily 
from  planting  to  poetry  !  "  Then  a  sudden  thought 
struck  her  and  she  surveyed  Eliza  critically. 

"  I  believe  you  are  in  love,"  she  said.  "  People 
in  love  are  always  writing  verses." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Eliza,  with  laughing  eyes,  "  I 
am  in  love  —  with  the  mocking-bird."  Then  she 
continued  more  seriously.  "  My  dear,  you  must 
abandon  all  thoughts  of  my  falling  in  love  and 
getting  married.  I  just  writ  papa  this  morning 
that  a  single  life  is  my  only  choice." 

"  And  has  he  been  urging  matrimony  upon  you," 
exclaimed  Miss  Bartlett,  looking  interested. 

"Yes,"  replied  Eliza,  with  something  between  a 
sigli  and  a  laugh.  u  A  few  days  ago  he  writ  to 
inform  me  that  two  gentlemen  were  each  desirous 
of  becoming  my  husband,  a  Mr.  W.  whom  I  scarcely 
know,  and  a  Mr.  L.  whom  I  scarcely  like." 

"  And  what  answer  did  you  send  to  their  pro- 
posals ? "  asked  Miss  Bartlett,  who  dearly  loved 
anything  romantic. 

"I  sent  them  my  compliments  and  thanks  for 
their  favorable  sentiments  of  me,  but  begged  leave 
to  decline  their  offers." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  and  then  Miss 
Bartlett  remarked,  with  a  side  glance  at  her  friend  : 

"  I  think  I  have  guessed  who  Mr.  L.  is.  Why 
will  you  not  have  him  ?  He  is  an  agreeable  gen- 
tleman, and  rich  too,  they  say." 


112   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

Eliza  flung  up  her  head. 

"  All  the  riches  of  Chili  and  Peru  put  together, 
if  he  had  them,  could  not  purchase  a  sufficient 
esteem  for  him  to  make  him  my  husband,"  she 
affirmed  with  spirit. 

Miss  Bartlett  sighed. 

"  I  fear  you  will  die  an  old  maid,  my  dear,"  she 
remarked.  "I  doubt  if  you  will  ever  get  a  man 
to  answer  your  plan." 

"  And  die  an  old  maid  I  certainly  shall,  unless  I 
find  the  right  man,"  protested  Eliza,  quite  un- 
daunted. "  Matrimony  is  a  ticklish  affair  and 
requires  the  nicest  consideration,"  she  added  more 
gayly;  "for  if  you  happen  to  judge  wrong  and 
are  unequally  matched  there  is  an  end  of  all  hu- 
man felicity,  and  as  Dr.  Watts  says, 

"'As  well  may  heavenly  concord  spring 
From  two  old  lutes  without  a  string.'" 

Thus  the  time  passed  pleasantly  in  talk  of 
matrimony,  beaux,  and  other  engaging  matter 
until  dinner  was  announced,  and  the  girls  went 
down  to  rejoin  the  colonel  and  Mrs.  Pinckney  in 
the  large  dining-room  below. 

Eliza  always  enjoyed  her  visits  to  the  Pinckney 
mansion.  She  felt  more  at  home  with  the  colonel 
and  his  wife  than  with  any  of  her  other  Charleston 
friends,  and  although  they  were  as  much  as  twenty 
years  her  seniors,  she  found  their  sensible  con- 
versation more  to  her  taste  than  the  "  flashy  non- 


ELIZA    LUCAS.  113 

sense,"  as  she  called  it,  of  many  of  her  younger 
acquaintances. 

Mrs.  Pinckney  chaperoned  her,  advised  her,  and 
made  much  of  her;  the  colonel  lent  her  books, 
discussed  literature  and  planting  with  her,  and 
teased  her  about  her  "  whims ;  "  while  both  of 
them  grew  very  fond  of  their  bright  young  friend, 
and  were  continually  urging  her  to  come  and  stay 
with  them.  And  Eliza,  for  all  her  serious-minded- 
ness,  was  enough  of  a  girl  to  enjoy  the  gayeties 
their  city  home  offered  and  to  find  the  balls,  re- 
ceptions, and  dinner  parties  to  which  they  took 
her  a  pleasant  change  from  her  quiet,  retired  life 
in  the  country. 

Yet  her  country  life  had  been  of  her  own  choos- 
ing.    In  one  of  her  many  letters  she  writes : 

"  My  papa  and  mamma's  great  indulgence  to 
me  leaves  it  to  me  to  chuse  our  place  of  residence, 
either  in  town  or  country,  but  I  think  it  more 
prudent  as  well  as  more  agreeable  to  my  mamma 
and  self  to  be  in  the  country  during  my  father's 
absence." 

Eliza  was  a  girl  of  sixteen  when  she  came  to 
"  chuse  "  her  "  place  of  residence  "  in  South  Caro- 
lina. Up  to  that  time  her  home  had  been  in  the 
West  Indian  island  of  Antigua,  where  her  father, 
Lieut.-Col.  George  Lucas,  an  officer  in  the  Eng- 
lish army,  was  stationed.  Most  of  her  child- 
hood, however,  was  not  passed  in  Antigua,  but 
in  England,  for  she  was  sent  there  with  her  little 


114    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

brothers,  George  and  Tom,  to  be  educated,  and 
she  grew  up  in  the  great  city  of  London  under 
the  care  of  a  good  English  woman  named  Mrs. 
Boddicott. 

Meanwhile,  in  Antigua,  her  poor  mamma  had 
been  languishing  in  the  tropical  heat  of  her  new 
land  and  longing  for  the  green  valleys  and  breezy 
hilltops  of  Old  England.  She  grew  more  and 
more  sickly,  and  soon  after  Eliza's  return  to 
Antigua  Governor  Lucas  went  with  his  family  in 
search  of  a  climate  which  would  suit  his  wife's 
delicate  health.  They  liked  the  pretty,  balmy 
land  of  Carolina  so  well  that  they  settled  there, 
and  Colonel  Lucas  started  extensive  plantations 
in  St.  Andrew's  parish,  near  the  Ashley  river, 
about  seventeen  miles  from  Charleston.  But,  at 
the  renewal  of  England's  war  with  Spain,  he  was 
obliged  to  hurry  back,  and  Eliza  was  left  with  the 
care  of  a  delicate  mother  and  a  little  sister,  and 
the  management  of  a  house  and  three  plantations. 
It  was  a  responsible  position  for  a  girl  of  sixteen. 
Eliza,  however,  Avas  a  capable,  practical,  level- 
headed young  woman,  and  she  filled  her  place 
well. 

She  entered  upon  her  agricultural  duties  with 
energy  and  spirit.  Her  plan  was  to  see  what 
crops  could  be  raised  on  the  highlands  of  South 
Carolina  to  furnish  a  staple  for  exportation.  She 
tried  plots  of  indigo,  ginger,  cotton,  lucerne,  and 
cassada. 


ELIZA    LUCAS.  115 

With  her  indigo  she  was  especially  successful, 
and  after  many  disappointments  she  mastered  the 
secret  of  its  preparation.  Her  experiments  in 
that  crop  proved  a  source  of  wealth  to  the  colony, 
the  annual  value  of  its  exportation,  just  before  the 
Revolution,  amounting  to  over  a  million  pounds. 
And  her  biographer  quite  justly  implies  that  this 
modest,  unassuming  colonial  daughter  of  almost 
two  hundred  years  back  did  as  much  for  our 
country  as    any  "  New  Woman  "    has  done  since. 

From  the  time  of  her  coming  to  Carolina,  Eliza's 
letters  tell  the  story  of  her  life.  There  are  letters 
to  her  friends  in  Charleston  only  seventeen  miles 
away,  letters  to  Mrs.  Boddicott  in  London  and  to 
her  Boston  cousin,  and,  occasionally,  letters  to 
some  old  school  friend,  letters  addressed  in  an 
elder-sisterly  vein  to  her  young  brothers  in  Eng- 
land, and  letters  filled  with  business  matter,  scraps 
of  news,  and  affectionate  messages  to  her  father, 
her  "best  friend,"  as  she  calls  him,  —  all  these 
written  in  the  stilted  phraseology  of  the  day,  but 
showing  a  charming,  unaffected  personality  and  a 
character  earnest,  persevering,  and  self-reliant. 

As  we  read  them,  we  are  impressed  with  the 
fulness  and  usefulness  of  this  young  girl's  life. 

"  I  have  a  little  library,  well-furnished,"  she 
writes,  "  (for  my  papa  has  left  me  most  of  his 
books),  in  which  I  spend  part  of  my  time.  My 
music  and  the  garden,  which  I  am  very  fond  of, 
take  up  the  rest  that  is   not  employed  in  business 


116    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

of  which  my  father  has  left  me  a  pretty  good  share, 
and  indeed  't  was  unavoidable,  as  my  mamma's  bad 
state  of  health  prevents  her  going  thro'  any  fatigue. 
I  have  the  business  of  three  plantations  to  transact 
which  requires  much  writing  and  more  business 
and  fatigue  of  other  sorts  than  you  can  imagine, 
but  lest  you  should  imagine  it  too  burthensome 
to  a  girl  at  my  early  time  of  life,  give  me  leave 
to  assure  you  I  think  myself  happy  that  I  can  be 
useful  to  so  good  a  father." 

And  again,  speaking  of  her  engagements,  she 
writes,  "  I  have  particular  matters  for  particular 
days.  Mondays  my  musick  master  is  here.  Tues- 
day my  friend  Mrs.  Chardon  (about  three  miles 
distant)  and  I  are  constantly  engaged  to  each 
other.  Thursday,  the  whole  day,  except  what  the 
necessary  affairs  of  the  family  take  up,  is  spent  in 
writing  letters  on  the  business  of  the  plantations 
or  on  letters  to  my  friends.  Every  other  Friday, 
if  no  company,  we  go  a-visiting.  So  that  I  go 
abroad  once  a  week  and  no  oftener." 

Every  day  she  gave  instruction  to  her  small 
sister  "  Polly "  and  taught  a  "  parcel  of  little 
Negroes  "  how  to  read.  There  were  always  calls 
to  be  made  upon  the  poor  and  sick  who  lived  near. 
And  she  even  established  herself  as  a  notary  to 
meet  the  needs  of  some  unfortunate  neighbors 
who  "  never  think  of  making  a  will  till  they  come 
upon  a  sick  bed  and  find  it  too  expensive  to  send  to 
town    for   a   lawyer."    So  Miss   Lucas,    who   was 


ELIZA    LUCAS.  117 

already  housekeeper,  teacher,  nurse,  and  planter, 
became  a  lawyer  too,  and  borrowing  some  ponder- 
ous volumes  from  her  friend,  Mr.  Pinckney,  she 
straightway  "  engaged  herself  with  the  rudiments 
of  the  law."  Imagine  poor  little  "  Betsey,"  as  she 
was  sometimes  named,  puckering  up  her  fair 
forehead  and  puzzling  her  quick  wits  over  the 
difficult  places,  "  cramp  phrases,"  she  called  them, 
and  finally  mastering  them,  so  that  she  was  at  last 
able  to  "  convey  by  will,  estates,  real  and  personal, 
and  never  forget  in  its  proper  place,  him  and  his 
heirs  forever."  But  even  the  obliging  Miss  Lucas 
must  "  draw  the  line  "  somewhere  and  when  "  a 
widow  with  a  pretty  little  fortune"  teased  her 
"  intolerable  "  to  draw  her  a  marriage  settlement, 
Eliza  declared  it  was  quite  "  out  of  her  depth  "  and 
"  absolutely  refused  it." 

In  the  midst  of  this  busy  life,  Eliza  found  time 
to  cultivate  her  artistic  tastes.  She  tells  us  that 
she  devoted  certain  hours  every  day  to  the  study 
of  music,  and  we  find  her  writing  to  ask  her 
father's  permission  to  send  to  England  for  "  Can- 
tatas, Welden's  Anthems,  and  Knolly's  Rules  for 
Tuning."  Her  fondness  for  literature  quite  scan- 
dalized one  old  gentlewoman  in  the  neighborhood, 
who  took  such  a  dislike  to  her  books  that  "  she 
had  like  to  have  thrown  my  Plutarch's  Lives  into 
the  fire.  She  is  sadly  afraid,"  writes  the  amused 
young  lady,  "  that  I  will  read  myself  mad." 

Fortunately  for  Eliza,  however,  all  her  friends 


118    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS, 

were  not  so  hostile  to  her  literary  pursuits  as  this 
elderly  gentlewoman.  Colonel  Pinckney's  advice 
and  encouragement  to  her-  in  her  reading  helped 
her  greatly.  "  With  graceful  ease  and  good 
nature  peculiar  to  himself,"  she  writes  of  him, 
"  he  was  always  ready  to  instruct  the  ignorant." 
Here  she  was  modestly  classing  herself  with  the 
ignorant,  but  Colonel  Pinckney  would  never  have 
placed  her  in  such  a  category.  He  had  the  highest 
respect  for  her  intelligence  and  probably  enjoyed 
her  naive  criticisms,  her  keen  appreciations,  and 
youthful  enthusiasms  quite  as  much  as  she  did  his 
"  graceful  "  and  "  good-natured  "  instructions. 

Eliza  was  musical  and  literary  and  she  was  also, 
as  we  have  already  seen,  a  genuine  lover  of  nature. 
A  bird's  nest  interested  her  more  than  a  party,  and 
she  lamented  the  felling  of  a  tree  like  "  the  loss  of 
an  old  friend."  All  through  her  letters  we  are 
catching  glimpses  of  green  fields,  pleasant  groves 
of  oak  and  laurel,  and  meadows  fragrant  with  the 
young  myrtle,  the  yellow  jasmine,  and  the  deep 
blue  violets  of  Carolina,  while  the  sweet  melodies 
of  her  "  darling,"  the  mocking-bird,  are  continually 
echoing  through  the  pages. 

And  there  is  another  sort  of  music,  very  different 
from  the  mocking-bird's,  which  is  heard  now  and 
then  in  her  letters.  It  is  the  humming  and  scrap- 
ing of  the  fiddles  floating  down  to  us  through  the 
vista  of  almost  two  hundred  years  ago  in  the 
solemn  measures  of  the  minuet,  the  gay   jigging 


iw\.«$c^iW^ 


ELIZA    LUCAS.  119 

strains  of  the  reel  and  the  merry  country  dances. 
For  this  industrious  young  daughter  of  colonial 
days  could  be  frivolous  when  occasion  demanded 
and  trip  a  dance  as  charmingly  as  any  city  belle. 

Society  in  Charleston  and  the  pleasant  "  country 
seats  "  near  her  home  was  very  gay.  Miss  Lucas 
was  quite  overwhelmed  with  invitations.  Not  only 
the  Pinckneys  but  many  other  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances urged  her  to  accept  their  hospitality 
and  be  "  young  "  along  with  them  and  pressed  her 
to  "  relax,"  as  she  expressed  it,  "  oftener  than  she 
found  it  in  her  power  to  do  so."  England's  war 
with  Spain  brought  English  soldiers  and  sailors  to 
the  shores  of  Carolina,  and  she  writes  to  her  papa 
about  the  entertainment  of  the  Jamaica  fleet  with, 
"  I  am  told,  fifty  officers."  And  at  the  governor's 
ball  to  these  officers,  on  the  king's  birth-night,  she 
danced  with  "  your  old  friend  Captain  Brodrick," 
she  writes,  and  was  quite  besieged  by  a  Mr.  Small, 
"  a  very  talkative  man,"  she  declares,  "  who  said 
many  obliging  things  of  you,  for  which  I  thought 
myself  obliged  to  him  and  therefore  punished  my- 
self to  hear  a  great  deal  of  flashy  nonsense  from 
him  for  an  hour  together." 

When  Miss  Lucas  went  to  a  party  she  travelled 
in  a  post-chaise  which  her  mamma  had  imported 
from  England,  and  her  escort  rode  beside  her  on  a 
"small,  spirited  horse  of  the  Chickasaw  breed." 
Or,  if  she  went  by  water,  she  was  carried  down 
the  dark  Ashley  river  in  a  canoe  hollowed  from  a 


120   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

great  cypress,  and  manned  by  six  or  eight  negroes 
all  singing  in  time  with  the  silent  swing  of  their 
paddles.  We  can  imagine  Miss  Lucas  upon  such 
occasions,  admiring  the  brightness  of  the  stars, 
talking  gayly  in  anticipation  of  the  coming  dance, 
singing  little  snatches  of  song,  or  quietly  enjoying 
the  beauty  of  the  night. 

There  was  always  good  cheer  awaiting  the 
guests  at  the  manorial  houses  along  the  Ashley 
river.  Eliza  tells  us  of  the  venison,  wild  fowl, 
and  fish,  the  turkey  and  beef,  the  peaches,  melons, 
and  oranges  in  which  the  country  abounded.  After 
the  feast  the  men  lingered  over  their  wine  and  the 
ladies  gossiped  in  the  drawing-room  until  the 
fiddles  began  to  play.  Then  the  gentlemen  left 
their  caps  and  with  low  bows  and  elaborate  com- 
pliments invited  their  partners  to  the  dance,  and 
soon  the  house  was  ringing  with  merry  measures 
of  music  and  the  beat  of  many  feet.  And  while 
the  gentlemen,  in  powdered  hair,  long-waistcoats, 
and  buckled  shoes,  and  the  ladies,  in  towering  head 
dresses,  flaring  skirts  of  brocade,  lute-string,  and 
taffety,  and  amazingly  high-heeled  slippers,  were 
dancing  in  the  hall,  the  shining,  smiling  negroes 
all  beribboned  for  the  ball  were  footing  it  gayly  in 
the  servants'  quarters  and  upon  the  lawn  and 
broad  piazzas. 

Such  were  the  good  social  times  in  which  Eliza 
Lucas  took  part.  But  although  she  enjoyed  them 
and   entered   into   them   with  spirit  she  did   not 


ELIZA    LUCAS.  121 

dwell  much  upon  them.  Her  thoughts  did  not 
run  to  any  great  extent  upon  feasting,  balls,  and 
beaux.  She  was  engaged  with  more  serious  mat- 
ters, and  the  gentlemen  to  whom  she  gave  her 
consideration  were  not  Captain  Brodrick,  nor 
talkative  Mr.  Small,  nor  her  suitors  Mr.  L.  and 
Mr.  W.,  but  her  father  in  the  West  Indies,  and 
her  old  friend  Colonel  Pinckney,  and  her  brothers 
across  the  sea. 

She  was  very  much  worried  by  the  dangers  of 
the  campaign  in  which  her  father  was  engaged,  and 
longed  for  the  war  to  end.  "  I  wish  all  the  men 
were  as  great  cowards  as  myself,"  she  declared  ; 
"it  would  make  them  more  peaceably  inclined." 

She  was  also  uneasy  about  the  boys,  George,  who 
was  preparing  to  enter  the  army,  and  little  Tom, 
who  was  ill  at  school.  Finally  George  received 
his  commission  and  went  to  join  the  army  in 
Antigua,  and  then  his  sister  grew  anxious  about 
the  expeditions  in  which  she  knew  he  must  take 
his  part. 

Besides  this  affectionate  care  for  her  brothers' 
welfare,  she  seems  also  to  have  had,  as  their  elder 
sister,  a  strong  feeling  of  responsibility  over  them, 
and  in  a  letter  to  George,  written  to  him  shortly 
after  his  arrival  in  Antigua,  she  warns  him  against 
the  dangers  of  "  youthful  company,  pleasure,  and 
dissipation,  and  especially  against  the  fashionable 
but  shameful  vice  too  common  among  the  young 
and  gay  of  your  sex  —  the  pretending  a  disbelief 


122   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

of  and  ridiculing  of  religion."  Then  follows  an 
expression  of  her  own  belief,  neither  eloquent  nor 
original,  but  the  frank  confession  of  a  sincere  and 
earnest  faith. 

This  whole  letter  to  her  brother  George  is  re- 
markably grave  and  thoughtful.  And  it  is  only 
natural  it  should  have  been  so,  for  it  was  written  at 
a  serious  time  in  Eliza's  life.  Her  little  brother 
Tom  far  off  in  England  was  growing  rapidly  worse, 
and  in  Charleston,  only  a  few  miles  away,  her  dear 
friend  Mrs.  Pinckney  was  dying. 

First  came  Mrs.  Pinckney's  death,  and  then,  a 
few  months  later,  it  was  decided  as  a  desperate 
venture  that  Tom  should  attempt  the  voyage  to 
the  West  Indies.  At  the  same  time  General  Lucas 
sent  his  son  George  to  bring  Mrs.  Lucas  and  the 
girls  back  to  Antigua  to  meet  him. 

But  Eliza  was  not  destined  to  make  her  voyage 
to  Antigua,  and  it  was  her  old  friend  Colonel 
Pinckney  who  prevented  her  departure.  The  story 
is  told  that,  once  upon  a  time,  Mrs.  Pinckney  had 
said  that  rather  than  have  her  young  favorite  lost 
to  Carolina  she  would  herself  be  willing  to  step 
down  and  let  her  take  her  place.  Poor  woman ! 
She  probably  never  imagined  that  Fate  and  her  own 
husband  would  take  her  so  thoroughly  at  her  word. 
But  so  it  happened.  And  when  Colonel  Pinck- 
ney, the  Speaker  of  the  House  of  the  Assembly, 
a  member  of  the  Royal  Council  of  the  Province,  a 
distinguished  lawyer,  a  wealthy  planter,  a  man  of 


ELIZA    LUCAS,  123 

"  charming  temper,  gay  and  courteous  manners, 
well-looking,  well-educated,  and  of  high  religious 
principles,"  when  this  "  ideal "  gentleman  offered 
himself  to  Miss  Lucas,  the  choice  of  a  "  single 
life "  somehow  lost  its  charms  for  her,  and  she 
smilingly  agreed  to  become  Mrs.  Pinckney  the 
second. 

You  see  the  "  right  man  "  had  arrived.  As  Miss 
Lucas  herself  expressed  it  to  her  dear  Boston 
cousin,  Fanny  Fairweather,  who  seemed  disposed 
to  chaff  her  about  her  change  of  mind,  she  had 
found  a  man  "  who  came  up  to  her  plan  in  every 
title."  No  wonder  the  prospect  of  matrimony  with 
such  a  partner  was  more  attractive  to  her  than  the 
single  life  of  which  she  had  before  made  choice. 

Accordingly,  on  a  warm  sunshiny  daj^  in  May  of 
the  year  1744  she  was  married  to  Mr.  Pinckney, 
"  with  the  approbation  of  all  my  friends,"  as  she 
proudly  declared.  She  and  her  husband  did  not 
go  immediately  to  the  Pinckney  summer  home  in 
Belmont,  but  for  the  first  few  months  they  stayed 
with  her  mother,  until  Mrs.  Lucas  was  able  to  set 
sail  with  George  and  little  Polly  for  Antigua. 

Although  Mrs.  Eliza  was  troubled  at  the  thought 
of  having  to  part  from  her  family,  still  there  was 
other  cause  for  her  to  be  happy.  And  she  was 
happy,  eloquently  so.  Her  letters  of  this  period 
have  a  decidedly  joyful  ring,  as  if  the  young  bride 
were  continually  congratulating  herself  upon  her 
"  choice." 


124  COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

"  You  will  be  apt  to  ask  me,"  she  says,  writing 
to  an  old  school  friend,  —  and  we  can  almost  see 
her  expression  of  smiling  content  as  she  makes  her 
statement,  — "  you  will  be  apt  to  ask  me  hoiv  I 
could  leave  a  tender  and  affectionate  father, 
mother,  brother,  and  sister  to  live  in  a  strange 
country,  but  I  natter  myself  if  you  knew  the  char- 
acter and  merit  of  the  gentleman  I  have  made 
choice  of,  you  would  think  it  less  strange." 

And  to  her  father,  who  had  already  given  his 
approbation,  she  writes  : 

"  I  do  assure  you,  sir,  that  though  I  think  Mr. 
Pinckney's  character  and  merit  are  sufficient  to 
engage  the  esteem  of:  any  lady  acquainted  with 
him,  the  leaving  of  you  at  such  a  distance  was  an 
objection  I  could  not  easily  get  over ;  but  when  I 
considered  that  Providence  might  by  some  means 
or  other  bring  us  together  again,  and  that  it  must 
be  a  great  satisfaction  to  you,  as  well  as  to  myself, 
to  know  that  I  have  put  myself  into  the  hands  of 
a  man  of  honor,  whose  good  sense  and  sweetness 
of  disposition  give  me  a  prospect  of  a  happy  life, 
I  thought  it  prudent  as  well  as  entirely  agreeable 
to  me  to  accept  the  offer." 

As  we  read  this  old  letter,  so  quaint  and  formal 
in  its  wording,  yet  charming  in  its  simplicity  and 
earnestness,  it  is  pleasant  to  know  that  Mr.  Pinck- 
ney's "good  sense  "  and  "  sweetness  of  disposi- 
tion "  continued,  and  that  his  young  wife  was  able 
to  realize  her  "  prospect  of  a  happy  life." 


ELIZA    LUCAS.  125 

But  this  was  to  have  been  the  story  of  Miss 
Eliza  Lucas,  a  daughter  of  colonial  days ;  and  a 
husband's  temper  and  a  young  bride's  confidences 
should  have  had  no  place  in  it.  Still,  now  that 
we  have  already  peeped,  we  may  go  on  and,  like  a 
sibyl  or  gypsy  fortune-teller,  take  a  brief  glance 
into  that  future  in  which  Mrs.  Charles  Pinckney, 
no  longer  Miss  Eliza  Lucas,  is  the  heroine. 

First,  there  comes  a  picture  of  her  homes,  the 
big  city  house  on  the  bay,  with  its  flagstone  hall 
and  heavily  panelled,  wainscoted  rooms,  and  the 
pleasant  summer  residence  in  Belmont,  five  miles 
away  from  Charleston,  where  the  river  widened 
like  a  lake  and  the  lawns  and  meadows  stretched 
out  in  broad  expanse.  We  may  follow  Mrs.  Pinck- 
ney through  her  sitting-room,  her  library,  and  her 
kitchen,  out  into  the  servants'  quarters  and  the 
garden  and  upon  the  shady  lawns,  busying  herself 
now  here,  now  there,  the  same  industrious  woman 
as  in  her  girlhood. 

And  the  new  life  brought  new  responsibilities. 
On  many  nights  the  house  was  brilliantly  lighted 
and  the  halls  and  drawing-rooms  of  the  Pinckney 
mansion  were  crowded  with  gentlemen  in  square- 
cut  coats  and  satin  knee  breeches,  and  ladies  in 
rustling  brocaded  gowns.  For  Colonel  Pinckney 
—  Chief- Justice  Pinckney,  as  he  came  to  be  — 
occupied  a  high  position  in  the  colony,  and  his 
wife's  social  duties  were  not  slight. 

But  there  were  other  times  when  the  house  was 


126   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

quiet  except  for  the  patter  of  children's  feet  upon 
the  stairways  and  the  echo  of  children's  voices 
through  the  halls.  There  were  three  children: 
Charles,  the  eldest,  a  clever,  serious  child  of  whom 
the  family  legend  has  told  many  amazing  things, 
and  warm-hearted,  sunny-natured  Tom,  and  their 
pretty  sister  Harriott,  "  like  "  her  mother,  it  was 
said,  fair-haired  and  blue-eyed,  with  a  dash  of  her 
mother's  spirit  and  energy. 

Then  there  came  a  day  when  Mrs.  Pinckney  no 
longer  gave  her  parties  to  the  people  of  Carolina, 
and  when  the  passers-by  missed  the  merry  faces  of 
the  three  children  peering  at  them  from  the  windows 
of  the  Pinckney  mansion.  For  one  March  morning 
in  the  year  1753,  Chief-Justice  Pinckney,  the  new 
Commissioner  of  the  Colony,  and  his  family  sailed 
away  and  arrived  in  England  with  the  springtime. 

Five  years  the  Pinckneys  remained  in  England, 
living  sometimes  in  London,  sometimes  at  Rich- 
mond, sometimes  in  Surrey,  "the  garden  county 
of  England,"  with  an  occasional  season  at  Bath. 
The  boys  were  "  put "  to  school  and  the  whole 
Pinckney  family  made  themselves  "  at  home." 

To  Mrs.  Pinckney  England  had  always  been 
"home,"  and  she  was  very  happy  renewing  old 
friendships  and  forming  new  ones.  In  the  country 
she  had  her  garden,  and  in  London  she  enjoyed  the 
gayeties  of  the  city,  especially  the  theatre,  and  she 
"never  missed  a  single  play  when  Garrick  was  to 
act."     Only  two  things  troubled  her,  the  "  heart- 


ELIZA    LUCAS.  127 

lessness "  of  the  Londoners  and  the  "  perpetual 
card-playing."  Of  the  latter  she  remarks  with 
disgust,  "  it  seems  with  many  people  here  to  be  the 
business  of  life." 

Mr.  Pinckney,  however,  who  was  a  Carolinian 
born  and  had  no  early  associates  such  as  hers  to 
endear  England  to  him,  was  not  so  well  satisfied. 
"  He  has  many  yearnings  after  his  native  land," 
wrote  his  wife,  "  though  I  believe  never  strangers 
had  more  reason  to  like  a  place,  everything  consid- 
ered, than  we  have,  but  still  I  can't  help  applying 
a  verse  in  the  old  song  to  him  sometimes : 

"  Thus  wretched  exiles  as  they  roam 

Find  favor  everywhere,  but  languish  for  their  native  home." 

The  Pinckney  exiles  certainly  "  found  favor 
everywhere."  Even  royalty  opened  its  doors  to 
them  and  they  were  entertained  for  several  hours 
by  the  widowed  Princess  of  Wales  and  her  nine 
little  princes  and  princesses.  Among  them  was  the 
future  George  III.,  who,  of  course,  could  not  know 
that  his  guests  would  some  day  be  his  "  rebels." 

But  these  pleasant  days  in  England  had  to  end. 
And  when  the  war  between  France  and  England 
was  renewed  and  the  English  colonies  in  America 
endangered,  Judge  Pinckney  instantly  decided  to 
return  to  Carolina  and  settle  his  affairs  there.  His 
wife  and  his  little  girl  went  with  him.  Both  the 
boys  were  left  at  school.  It  was  a  sad  good-by  for 
the  mother,  parting  from  her  sons.     Fortunatel}% 


128   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

she  could  not  know  that  when  she  next  saw  her 
little  boys  she  would  be  a  widow  and  they  would 
be  grown  men. 

Her  widowhood  began  soon  after  her  arrival  in 
Carolina.  Then  there  were  long,  sorrowful  days 
when  she  was,  as  she  expressed  it,  seized  with  the 
"lethargy  of  stupidity."  But  her  business  abil- 
ity and  her  love  for  her  children  brought  her 
back  to  an  interest  in  life,  and  in  time  she  was 
able  to  look  after  her  plantation  affairs  and  to 
write  to  her  friends  in  England,  thanking  them 
for  their  "  kindness  "  to  her  "  poor  fatherless  boys," 
and  sending  loving  messages  to  "  my  son  Charles  " 
and  "  dear  little  Tomm." 

Of  her  "  Tomm,"  she  writes  : 

"  Tell  the  dear  saucy  boy  one  scrap  of  a  penn 
from  his  hand  would  have  given  his  mamma  more 
joy  than  all  ye  pleasures  of  Bath  could  him." 

And  again : 

"  My  blessing  attend  my  dear  little  man  and  tell 
him  how  much  pleasure  it  gives  his  mamma  to  see 
his  little  scrawl,  if  it  is  but  in  writing  his  name." 

To  the  elder  one,  Charles,  she  gave  motherly 
warnings  and  advice.  She  wished  to  impress  him 
with  the  feeling  of  responsibility,  now  that  he  had 
become  the  head  of  his  family. 

"  My  dear  child,"  she  says,  "  tho'  you  are  very 
young,  you  must  know  the  welfare  of  a  whole  fam- 
ily depends  in  a  great  measure  on  the  progress 
you  make  in  moral  virtue,  religion,  and  learning." 


ELIZA    LUCAS.  129 

How  well  Charles  Cotesworth  Pinckney  satisfied 
his  mother's  hopes  one  of  her  later  letters  shows, 
where  she  refers  to  him  as  "  one  who  has  lived  to 
near  twenty-three  years  of  age  without  once  of- 
fending me." 

Indeed,  Charles  Pinckney  and  his  younger 
brother  both  became  excellent  young  men,  winning 
high  praise  for  their  "  moral  virtue,  religion,  and 
learning."  And  "  dear  little  Tomm  "  was  made  the 
"  Grecian  "  of  his  year  at  Westminster  and  "  Cap- 
tain of  the  Town  Boys." 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Pinckney  took  great  comfort 
in  her  daughter  Harriott,  who  was  always  with 
her,  and  Harriott's  education  was  her  chief  task 
and  greatest  pleasure. 

"  I  love  a  garden  and  a  book,"  she  writes  —  and 
we  realize  that  Mrs.  Pinckney's  tastes  have  not 
changed  since  her  girlhood;  uand  they  are  all  my 
amusements,  except  I  include  one  of  the  greatest 
businesses  of  my  life,  —  my  attention  to  my  dear 
little  girl.  A  pleasure  it  certainly  is  to  cultivate 
the  tender  mind,  '  to  teach  the  young  idea  how  to 
shoot,'  etc.,  especially  to  a  mind  so  tractable  and  a 
temper  so  sweet  as  hers." 

So,  under  her  mother's  good  care,  Harriott 
Pinckney  grew  up  into  a  tall,  pretty,  graceful  girl, 
light-hearted  and  lively.  She  soon  had  her  ad- 
mirers, among  them  a  Mr.  Horry,  who  was,  she 
declared,  "  so  joked  about  me  that  it  prevents  his 
calling  on  us,  lest  it  should  be  thought   that   he 


130   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

had  a  serious  attachment,  and  I  am  so  much 
joked  that  I  believe  I  look  so  simple  when  he  is  in 
company  that  he  thinks  me  half  an  idiot."  Mr. 
Horry  and  Miss  Pinckney,  however,  must  have 
thoroughly  recovered  from  the  bad  effects  of  joking, 
for  they  were  married  soon  after  and  Mrs.  Pinck- 
ney was  left  alone  with  her  slaves  and  her  planta- 
tion work  in  her  Charleston  home. 

And  now  we  are  coming  to  Mrs.  Pinckney's  last 
days,  and  we  find  them  colored  with  the  shades  of 
war.  There  had  always  been  more  or  less  of  war  in 
her  life.  First,  in  her  girlhood,  it  was  the  Spanish 
war,  which  threatened  her  own  home  and  filled 
her  young  heart  with  anxiety  for  her  father  and 
her  brother;  then,  in  later  years,  occurred  the 
terrible  Indian  raids,  in  which  many  a  brave  Caro- 
lina soldier  lost  his  life;  and,  finally,  when  she 
was  a  grandmother,  the  Revolution  came. 

Mrs.  Pinckney's  position  at  the  beginning  of  the 
Revolution  was  a  hard  one.  For  she  was,  like  her 
own  State  of  Carolina,  part  rebel  and  part  Tory. 
Among  the  English  people  she  numbered  many  of 
her  dearest  friends  ;  she  remembered  her  fair-haired 
English  mother  and  her  father  in  his  British  regi- 
mentals; as  a  child,  she  had  trod  on  English  pave- 
ment, played  with  English  children,  and  knelt  in 
English  cloisters.  And  her  heart  was  loyal  to  the 
king  and  home.  But  her  boys,  in  spite  of  their 
fourteen  years  in  England,  were,  as  their  father  had 
been,  thoroughly  American.     From  the  very  first 


ELIZA    LUCAS.  131 

they  had  been  enthusiastic  rebels.  Even  as  a  boy  at 
school  Tom  had  won  the  name  of  "  Little  Rebel," 
and  in  one  of  Charles  Cotesworth  Pinckney's  earli- 
est portraits  he  is  presented  as  declaiming  against 
the  Stamp  Act.  And  when  the  test  came  their 
mother's  sympathy  went  with  the  cause  for  which 
her  boys  were  fighting  and  she  made  their  country 
her  country. 

She  never  regretted  her  choice.  Even  after  she 
lost  all  that  she  had,  for  her  country  and  their 
country,  she  did  not  complain,  but  wrote  to  Tom : 

"  Don't  grieve  for  me,  my  child,  as  I  assure  you 
I  do  not  for  myself.  While  I  have  such  children 
need  I  think  my  lot  hard  ?  God  forbid.  I  pray 
the  almighty  disposer  of  events  to  preserve  them 
and  my  grandchildren  to  me  and,  for  all  the  rest,  I 
hope  I  shall  be  able  to  say  contentedly,  '  God's 
sacred  will  be  done.'" 

She  was  rewarded  for  her  brave  cheerfulness,  and 
lived  to  see  America  free  and  at  peace,  and  her 
sons  respected  American  citizens.  And  so  her  old 
age  was  happy  —  happier  indeed,  she  declared 
smilingly,  than  her  youth  had  been ;  for 

"  I  regret  no  pleasures  that  I  can't  enjoy,"  she 
writes,  "  and  I  enjoy  some  that  I  could  not  have 
had  at  an  early  season.  I  now  see  my  children 
grown  up  and,  blessed  be  God,  I  see  them  such  as 
I  hoped.  What  is  there  in  youthful  enjoyment 
preferable  to  this  ?  " 

Thus,  with  a  bright  smile  and  a  tone  of  sweet 
content,  she  leaves  us. 


VI. 


MARTHA   WASHINGTON,  OF   MOUNT 
VERNON, 

WIFE    OF    GENERAL   GEORGE   WASHINGTON. 


Bom  in  New  Kent  County,  Virginia,  June  21, 1731. 
Died  at  Mount  Vernon,  May  22, 1802. 


"Not  wise  or  great  in  any  shining  worldly  sense  was  she, 
but  largely  endowed  with  those  qualities  of  the  heart  that  conspire 
to  the  making  of  a  noble  and  rounded  character.  .  .  .  She  was 
well  worthy  to  be  the  chosen  companion  and  much-loved  wife  of 
the  greatest  of  our  soldiers  and  the  purest  of  our  patriots."  — 
Anne  Hollingsworth  Wharton. 

The  fair  Penelope  in  the  old  Greek  days  can 
hardly  have  been  more  admired  and  sought  after 
by  her  troublesome  suitors  than  was  a  certain  capti- 
vating widow  who  lived  in  our  own  land  over  a 
hundred  years  ago.  Her  name  was  Martha  Custis. 
Young,  pretty,  and  reported  to  be  the  richest 
widow  in  Virginia,  she  must  have  excited  ardent 
longings  in  the  hearts  of  the  young  Virginia  plant- 
ers and  the  gallants  of  the  Williamsburg  court 
who  knocked  at  the  door  of  her  beautiful  home, 
the  "White  House,"  on  the  banks  of  the  York. 

133 


134  COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

One  day,  however,  they  knocked  only  to  be  told 
that  the  mistress  of  the  "  White  House  "  was  no 
longer  there. 

In  May  of  the  year  1758  Mrs.  Custis  left  her 
homestead  and  plantation  to  pay  a  visit  to  her 
friend  Major  Chamberlayne,  who  owned  a  large 
estate  along  the  river,  not  far  from  the  "  White 
House."  Perhaps  the  young  widow  had  felt 
lonely  in  her  great  manor  house  with  only  her  two 
little  children  and  the  slaves  for  company,  —  it  was 
less  than  eighteen  months  since  her  husband's 
death,  —  or  perhaps  the  attention  of  some  per- 
sistent lover  had  become  annoying.  History  does 
not  tell  us  the  reason  of  her  eventful  visit  at  her 
neighbor's.  But  if,  as  some  one  has  surmised,  she 
turned  to  Major  Chamberlayne  for  protection  from 
the  importunities  of  some  suitor  her  visit  was  not 
a  success.  For  it  was  during  her  stay  at  Major 
Chamberlayne's  that  fate  finally  overtook  her  — 
fate  in  the  shape  of  a  big  Virginia  colonel. 

The  big  Virginia  colonel  who  was  destined  to 
put  so  sudden  a  stop  to  Mrs.  Custis's  widowhood 
was  already  a  young  military  hero.  All  Virginia 
admired  him  for  his  brave  fight  at  Braddock's  de- 
feat, where  he  had  two  horses  shot  under  him  and 
four  bullets  through  his  coat.  The  colonel  was  a 
very  tall  man,  standing  "  six  feet  two  in  his  slip- 
pers," they  say,  and  his  splendid,  soldierly  figure 
as  he  rode  by  on  his  favorite  brown  horse  or  walked 
with  his  "  light,  elastic  step  "  along  the  roads  and 


MARTHA     WASHINGTON.  135 

by-ways  of  the  Old  Dominion  was  one  that  his 
countrymen  were  proud  to  recognize. 

The  renown  of  his  courage  and  daring  had  duly 
impressed  Mrs.  Custis.  Although  the  little 
widow  herself  was  the  most  gentle  and  peace- 
loving  of  women,  she  delighted  to  honor  warlike 
virtues  in  other  people.  And  we  may  be  sure  that 
while,  at  her  home  on  the  banks  of  the  York,  she 
was  spinning  among  her  slaves,  or  singing  lullabies 
to  her  babies,  or  chatting  with  her  guests  in  the 
long  parlors,  a  name  often  on  her  lips  and  in  her 
thoughts  was  that  of  the  big  Virginia  colonel  — 
George  Washington. 

How  a  shy,  brown-haired,  hazel-eyed  little  maid 
called  Patsy  would  have  blushed  and  started  if  a 
gypsy  had  looked  at  her  palm  and  told  her  that  her 
own  name  linked  with  that  greatest  American 
name  would  some  day  be  world-famous !  But 
there  is  no  record  that  any  gypsy  or  fortune-teller 
ever  predicted  great  things  of  the  small  girl  who 
afterwards  became  Martha  Washington. 

When  she  was  known  as  little  Patsy  Dandridge 
she  was  a  sensible,  pretty,  well-behaved  child,  who 
at  an  early  age  learned  the  mysteries  of  "  cross, 
tent,  and  satin  stitch,  hem,  fell,  and  overseam," 
how  to  dance  the  minuet,  and  how  to  play  upon  the 
spinnet.  At  that  time  domestic  and  social  accom- 
plishments were  considered  of  far  greater  impor- 
tance in  a  young  lady's  education  than  book  learn- 
ing, and  Patsy's  intellectual  training  was  somewhat 


136    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

neglected,  as  we  may  judge  from  the  few  letters 
written  by  Martha  Washington  that  have  come 
down  to  us.  Their  funny  wording  and  spelling 
make  us  smile  now. 

But  when  Miss  Martha  Dandridge,  as  a  sweet 
little  debutante  of  fifteen,  entered  the  gay  social 
world  of  the  "  court "  at  Williamsburg  no  one  liked 
her  any  the  less  because  she  spelled  do,  no,  and  go, 
"  doe,"  "  noe,"  and  "  goe."  They  admired  her  pretty 
face  and  manners,  her  grace  in  dancing,  and  her 
ease  in  playing  on  the  spinnet.  "  She  was  soon  recog- 
nized as  one  of  the  reigning  belles  in  the  small 
world  of  Williamsburg,"  says  the  chronicler,  "  and 
straightway  engaged  the  affections  of  one  of  its 
most  desirable  partis,  Mr.  Daniel  Parke  Custis." 

In  the  course  of  Mr.  Custis's  true  love,  how- 
ever, there  was  a  serious  obstacle,  an  obstacle  in 
the  person  of  his  own  father,  Colonel  John. 
Colonel  John  Custis  was  an  erratic  gentleman 
whose  marriage  was  not  the  least  erratic  thing 
about  him.  In  the  spirit  of  Shakespeare's  Petru- 
chio  he  married  a  fair  and  shrewish  lady ;  but 
with  less  happy  results  than  Katherine's  husband, 
it  would  seem,  if  we  may  go  by  the  inscription 
which  he  commanded  his  son,  upon  pain  of  disin- 
heritance, to  have  engraved  upon  his  tombstone  : 

"  Under  this  marble  lies  the  body  of  Hon.  John 
Custis,  Esq.,  aged  71  years,  and  yet  he  lived  but 
seven,  which  was  the  space  of  time  he  kept  a 
bachelor's  home  at  Arlington." 


MARTHA     WASHINGTON.  137 

This  would  certainly  imply  that  the  colonel 
was  unfortunate  in  his  matrimonial  venture.  Yet 
his  unlucky  experience  did  not  discourage  him 
from  undertaking  the  management  of  his  son's 
marriage.  He  chose  for  his  future  daughter-in- 
law  a  cousin,  Miss  Evelyn  Byrd,  whose  father  was 
a  gentleman  almost  as  eccentric  as  Colonel  John 
himself. 

These  two  ambitious  parents,  bent  on  a  union  of 
their  fine  estates  and  aristocratic  families,  argued, 
commanded,  and  threatened,  quite  regardless  of 
the  fact  that  their  children  had  no  affection  for 
each  other,  and  were  indeed  much  averse  to  this 
marriage  of  convenience.  The  situation  became 
dramatic.  The  fathers  grew  passionate,  but  the 
young  people  remained  firm  in  their  resistance. 
This  state  of  affairs  went  on  for  some  time,  and 
Miss  Byrd  and  Mr.  Daniel  Custis  approached  their 
thirtieth  birthdays  while  yet  in  the  single  state. 

All  this  while  Miss  Byrd,  so  the  story  goes,  was 
cherishing  a  hopeless  love  for  an  English  gentle- 
man of  royal  birth.  In  the  course  of  time  Daniel 
came  to  know  the  little  debutante  with  the  hazel 
eyes,  and  then  the  thought  of  a  marriage  with  any 
one  but  Miss  Martha  Dandridge  became  intoler- 
able to  him.  While  his  father's  threats  grew  more 
and  more  severe,  Daniel  quietly  went  his  way, 
courting  sweet  Miss  Patsy,  winning  her  love,  and 
obtaining  her  father's  consent  to  their  engagement. 

At   this  stage    Colonel  John's    frowns,    always 


138   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

terrible,  must  have  been  very  terrible  to  the  young* 
girl  of  sixteen  whom  he  did  not  wish  for  a  daugh- 
ter-in-law, and  it  would  not  have  been  surprising 
if  they  had  frightened  Miss  Martha  out  of  her 
usual  discreetness.  But  she  seems  to  have  be- 
haved with  much  dignity  and  good  judgment, 
and  when  the  death  of  Miss  Byrd  finally  put 
an  end  to  the  colonel's  favorite  project  he  was 
able  to  listen  with  some  attention  to  the  good 
reports  he  heard  of  Miss  Dandridge.  Some  sensi- 
ble words  of  hers,  when  brought  to  his  knowl- 
edge, quite  took  his  fancy,  and  he  straightway 
made  up  his  mind  in  favor  of  the  match.  A 
mutual  friend  of  the  father  and  son  immediately 
took  advantage  of  the  colonel's  friendly  disposi- 
tion and  wrote  to  the  young  lover, 

"  Dear  Sir  :  This  comes  at  last  to  bring  you 
the  news  that  I  believe  will  be  most  agreeable  to 
you  of  any  you  have  ever  heard.  That  yon  may 
not  be  long  in  suspense,  I  shall  tell  you  at  once. 
I  am  empowered  by  your  father  to  let  you  know 
that  he  heartily  and  willingly  consents  to  your 
marriage  with  Miss  Dandridge  —  that  he  has  so 
good  a  character  of  her  that  he  had  rather  you 
should  have  her  than  any  lady  in  Virginia  —  nay, 
if  possible,  he  is  as  much  enamoured  with  her 
character  as  you  are  with  her  person,  and  this  is 
owing  chiefly  to  a  prudent  speech  of  her  own. 
Hurry  down  immediately  for  fear  he  may  change 


MARTHA     WASHINGTON.  139 

the   strong  inclination  he    has  to  your  marrying 
directly.      I  shall  say  no   more,  as  I  expect  you 
soon  to-morrow,  but  conclude  what  I  really  am, 
"  Your  most  obliged  and  affectionate  humble 
servant, 

"J.  Powers." 

Mr.  Custis,  we  may  be  sure,  acted  upon  the 
advice  of  his  good  friend  Mr.  Powers.  He  and 
Miss  Dandridge,  who  was  barely  eighteen  on  her 
wedding  day,  were  married  "  directly,"  for  fear 
Colonel  John  might  "  change  his  strong  inclina- 
tion ; "  and  according  to  tradition  the  erratic  old 
colonel  was  the  first  to  salute  the  bride  "  with  a 
kiss  on  both  cheeks." 

Although  Mr.  Custis  married  his  young  wife  in 
such  haste,  he  did  not  end  his  days  according  to 
the  old  adage,  repenting  at  leisure,  but  found  com- 
fort and  domestic  satisfaction  in  his  life  with  her. 
In  spite  of  his  queer  old  father  and  his  shrewish 
mother,  he  was  an  agreeable,  sociable  man,  and 
appears  to  have  made  Mrs.  Martha  a  very  good 
sort  of  husband.  The  young  couple  spent  their 
winters  at  the  "  Six  Chimney  House  "  in  Williams- 
burg, in  the  midst  of  court  gayeties,  while  their 
summers  were  passed  at  their  country  home  on  the 
banks  of  the  York,  always  spoken  of  as  "  The 
White  House." 

Mr.  Custis's  story  reminds  one  of  the  old  fairy 
tales  in  which  the  hero,  having  undergone  all  his 


140    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

troubles  before  marriage,  was  able  to  "  live  happily 
ever  after."  But  in  Mr.  Custis's  case  the  "  ever 
after '  only  lasted  seven  years,  for  at  the  age  of 
twenty-five  Mrs.  Custis  was  left  a  widow,  with  her 
little  Jacky  and  Patsy  to  bring  up,  and  one  of  the 
largest  estates  in  Virginia  to  manage.  We  read 
that  she  conducted  her  business  affairs  wisely,  and 
showed  herself,  in  regard  to  money  matters,  a 
capable,  level-headed  woman. 

When,  after  her  first  year  of  mourning  and 
widowhood,  Mrs.  Custis  went  to  pay  her  visit  at 
Major  Chamberlayne's,  she  was,  as  we  know,  "a 
tempting  widow,  independent  of  the  jointure  land." 
Those  hazel  eyes  were  as  soft  and  expressive  as 
they  had  been  in  the  days  when  they  charmed  Mr. 
Custis,  and  very  soon  they  had  bewitched  that 
great  man  George  Washington. 

When  Colonel  Washington,  on  his  mission  to 
the  governor  at  Williamsburg,  crossed  William's 
Ferry  that  bright  morning  in  May  he  had  no 
suspicion  of  what  awaited  him  at  the  big  Cham- 
berlayne  house  opposite.  It  was  the  day  after  Mrs. 
Custis's  arrival.  Several  guests  were  assembled 
in  her  honor,  and  through  the  open  windows  the 
sound  of  laughter  and  merry  voices  floating  down 
to  the  river  must  have  rung  invitingly  in  the  ears 
of  the  young  colonel.  But  he  resolutely  turned 
his  horse  toward  the  Williamsburg  road. 

Almost  immediately,  however,  he  was  stopped 
by    Major    Chamberlayne.     The    major   had   seen 


MARTHA     WASHINGTON.  141 

Washington  crossing  the  river,  and  had  hurried 
down  to  entreat  him  not  to  pass  by  without  spend- 
ing a  few  days  under  his  roof.  At  first,  they  say, 
the  colonel  replied  that  he  must  decline  the  invi- 
tation, and  not  until  Major  Chamberlayne  men- 
tioned the  fact  that  a  very  charming  widow  was 
visiting  him,  did  Washington  hesitate  and  yield. 

The  father  of  our  country  always  was  fond  of 
the  ladies,  even  from  the  days  of  his  boyish  love 
for  the  famous  "  Lowland  Beauty."  Probably  the 
discerning  major  realized  this  and  saved  what  he 
knew  would  be  his  best  inducement  for  the  last. 
It  told.  Washington  received  it  with  dignity,  and 
said  without  a  smile  on  his  handsome,  serious  face 
that  he  would  "  dine  —  only  dine  "  with  the  major. 
Then,  handing  his  reins  to  his  attendant,  Bishop, 
and  giving  instructions  to  have  the  horses  saddled 
and  ready  for  departure  early  in  the  afternoon,  he 
dismounted  and  walked  with  the  jolly  major  up  to 
the  house. 

We  may  be  sure  that  several  eyes  peering  from 
the  windows  and  doorway  of  the  great  manor 
house  had  been  watching  the  major's  conference 
with  the  renowned  young  colonel  —  those  hazel 
eyes,  too,  very  likely.  And  a  little  stir  of  excite- 
ment went  through  the  rooms  as  George  Washing- 
ton was  seen  Hearing  the  house.  But  when  Major 
Chamberlayne  entered  with  his  tall,  dignified 
friend  at  his  side,  every  one  had  quieted  down  to 
a  calm  and  sedate  reserve,  and  Washington  was 


142  COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

presented  to  the  major's  guests  with  much  cere- 
mony and  propriety. 

Mrs.  Custis  looked  very  pretty  that  morning  in 
a  gown  of  her  favorite  white  dimity,  a  cluster  of 
mayblossoms  at  her  belt,  and  a  little  white  cap 
half  covering  her  soft,  waving  brown  hair. 

The  guests  lingered  at  the  table  until  late  in  the 
afternoon,  we  are  told.  The  little  widow  and  the 
big  colonel  talked  long  and  earnestly.  When 
Mrs.  Custis  smiled,  Colonel  Washington  smiled  ; 
when  Mrs.  Custis  sighed,  Colonel  Washington 
sighed ;  and  when  one  of  her  mayblossoms  fell  to 
the  floor,  he  picked  it  up  and  she  pinned  it  on  his 
coat  lapel,  while  he  smiled  down  affectionately  at 
her  fluffy  white  cap. 

In  such  pleasant  occupation  it  is  no  wonder  that 
Washington  forgot  the  appointed  hour  of  his  de- 
parture, forgot  Bishop  and  the  horses,  forgot  his 
mission  to  Williamsburg,  and  even  the  governor 
himself. 

Meanwhile  the  faithful  Bishop  was  outside 
waiting  with  the  horses,  and  wondering  what  could 
keep  his  master  so  long,  —  his  master  who  was 
always  "  the  most  punctual  of  men."  And  the 
major,  as  he  stood  at  the  window,  looked  from 
Bishop  at  the  gate  to  Washington  and  the  widow 
in  the  parlor,  and  he  smiled.  The  major  loved  a 
joke. 

The  sun  had  set  and  the  twilight  was  falling 
when  Washington  finally  started  to  his  feet,  declar- 


MARTHA     WASHINGTON.  143 

ing  that  he  must  be  off.  But  the  major  laid  a  re- 
straining hand  on  the  young  man's  shoulder. 

"No  guest  ever  leaves  my  house  after  sunset," 
he  said.  At  the  same  moment  the  widow's  hazel 
eyes  looked  up  into  the  colonel's  gray  ones,  and 
Colonel  Washington  sat  down  again. 

He  was  soon  entering  once  more  into  a  conver- 
sation with  the  widow  which  lasted  until  late  in 
the  evening.  And  when,  the  next  morning,  he 
took  his  leave  of  her,  it  was  only  au  revoir  for 
them.  For  they  had  agreed  that  after  the  business 
with  the  governor  was  over,  Washington  should 
proceed  to  the  "  White  House "  and  visit  Mrs. 
Custis  there. 

The  story  is  that  when  Washington  returned 
from  Williamsburg  that  night  he  was  met  at  the 
ferry  by  one  of  Mrs.  Custis's  slaves. 

"Is  your  mistress  at  home?"  he  inquired  of  the 
negro,  who  was  rowing  him  across  the  river. 

"  Yes,  sah,"  the  slave  replied,  and  then  added, 
perhaps  a  little  slyly,  his  white  teeth  flashing  in  a 
broad  smile,  "  I  reckon  you 's  the  man  what 's 
'spected." 

So  we  may  know  that  Mrs.  Custis  was  prepared 
to  receive  her  distinguished  guest.  And  when,  at 
sunset,  Washington  arrived  at  the  "  White  House," 
the  widow  was  waiting  for  him  in  her  sweetest 
gown  and  her  most  becoming  cap.  The  smile  with 
which  she  greeted  him  must  have  made  him  feel 
very  much   at  home,  for  it  was  during  this  visit 


144  COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

that  he  eagerly  pressed  his  suit,  with  such  success 
that  Mrs.  Custis  finally  agreed  to  become  Mrs. 
Washington. 

But  Washington's  love-making  was  brought  to 
a  sudden  stop.  Stern  duty  was  awaiting  him  on 
the  frontier,  and  very  soon  he  was  back  there, 
taking  part  in  the  expedition  against  the  French 
which  terminated  victoriously  at  Fort  Duquesne. 

Of  the  love-letters  which  he  wrote  to  his  be- 
trothed during  this  period  only  one  has  come  down 
to  us,  a  manly,  affectionate  letter,  showing  the 
straightforward  nature  of  the  man : 

"  We  have  begun  our  march  to  the  Ohio  [he 
writes  from  Fort  Cumberland,  July  20,  1758].  A 
courier  is  starting  for  Williamsburg,  and  I  embrace 
the  opportunity  to  send  a  few  words  to  one  whose 
life  is  inseparable  from  mine.  Since  that  happy 
hour  when  we  made  our  pledges  to  each  other  my 
thoughts  have  been  continually  going  to  you  as  to 
another  self.  That  all-powerful  Providence  may 
keep  us  both  in  safety  is  the  prayer  of 

"  Your  faithful  and  ever  affectionate  friend, 

"G.  Washington." 

The  wedding  which  took  place  on  the  sixth  of 
the  following  January  was  a  brilliant  one,  full  of 
sunshine,  life,  and  color.  The  belles  and  beaux 
of  Williamsburg  were  there,  and  the  wealthy 
planters  from  the  surrounding  country  with  their 
wives  and  daughters,  all  very  grand  in  their  satins 


MARTHA     WASHINGTON.  145 

and  brocades,  their  gold  lace  and  shining  buckles. 
Among  them  was  the  governor  himself,  in  a  beau- 
tiful scarlet  suit.  The  bridegroom,  we  are  told, 
was  splendid  in  his  blue  coat  lined  with  red  silk, 
his  gold  knee  buckles,  his  powdered  hair,  and  his 
straight  sword  at  his  side.  But  the  little  bride 
was  the  most  gorgeous  of  all.  She  wore  a  heavy 
white  silk  gown  shot  with  silver,  a  pearl  necklace 
at  her  throat  and  pearl  ornaments  in  her  hair,  and 
her  high-heeled  satin  slippers  were  clasped  with 
diamond  buckles.  The  story  is  that  she  and  her 
bridesmaids  were  driven  home  in  a  coach  drawn 
by  six  horses,  while  Washington  rode  beside  the 
coach  on  his  favorite  brown  horse. 

Life  opened  brightly  for  George  and  Martha 
Washington,  and  their  honeymoon  did  not  end 
with  the  proverbial  six  months,  but  lasted,  we 
may  truly  say,  the  forty  years  of  their  married 
life. 

Amid  the  perplexities  and  harassing  cares  of 
his  responsible  career  it  must  have  been  a  deep 
satisfaction  to  Washington  to  have  as  a  companion 
one  who  entered  so  heartily  into  his  love  of 
country  pursuits,  his  "  simple  pleasures  "  and 
"homely  duties,"  one  who  sympathized  so  fully 
with  his  thoughts,  feelings,  and  ideals.  "  The 
partner  of  all  my  domestic  happiness,"  he  called 
his  wife;  and  Mrs.  James  Warren,  writing  to  Mrs. 
John  Adams,  described  the  "  general's  lady  "  as  a 
woman  qualified  "to  soften  the  hours  of  private 


146   COLONIAL    DAMES   AND    DAUGHTERS. 

life,  to  sweeten  the  cares  of  a  Hero,  and  smooth 
the  rugged  paths  of  war." 

In  return,  the  "  Hero  "  did  everything  he  could 
to  "  soften  the  hours  of  private  life,"  "  to  sweeten 
the  cares  "  of  a  mother,  and  "  smooth  the  rugged 
paths  "  of  housekeeping  and  letter-writing. 

He  took  entire  charge  of  his  wife's  property  and 
managed  the  estates  of  her  children  with  the  ut- 
most care  and  consideration.  When  Mrs.  Wash- 
ington's duties  as  a  hostess  became  very  great,  he 
wished  to  save  her  the  small  worries  and  petty 
details  of  housekeeping,  and  applied  for  a  steward 
who  could  "  relieve  Mrs.  Washington  of  the  drudg- 
ery of  seeing  the  table  properly  covered  and 
things  economically  used." 

He  even  helped  his  wife  in  the  ordering  of  her 
own  clothes,  and  we  find  him  sending  abroad  for  a 
salmon-colored  tabby  velvet  sack,  "  puckered  " 
petticoats,  white  silk  hose,  and  white  satin  shoes  of 
the  smallest,  gloves  and  nets  and  pocket  handker- 
chiefs, all  "  most  fashionable,"  and,  as  the  last  item 
on  the  list,  "  sugar  candy."  So  we  know  Mrs. 
Washington  had  a  sweet  tooth  and  a  taste  for  fine 
clothes,  in  which  her  husband  loved  to  indulge 
her. 

We  also  know  that  letter-writing  was  always  a 
severe  cross  to  Mrs.  Martha  Washington.  Wash- 
ington edited  or  drafted  for  her  pen  her  important 
and  formal  letters.  We  can  imagine  the  little 
woman  poring,  flushed  and  weary,  over  her  ink  and 


MARTHA     WASHINGTON.  147 

paper,  and  the  great  man  drawing  his  chair  beside 
her,  with  one  of  his  kind,  "  benignant "  smiles, 
straightening  the  hard  words  and  smoothing  the 
troublesome  sentences. 

One  of  Mrs.  Washington's  letters,  which  she 
evidently  wrote  without  her  husband's  help,  shows 
that  she  was  a  fond,  worrying  mamma.  She  is 
writing  to  her  sister  about  a  visit,  in  which  "  I 
carried  my  little  patt  with  me,"  she  writes,  "  and 
left  Jackey  at  home  for  a  trial  to  see  how  well  I 
could  stay  without  him,  though  we  wear  gon  wone 
fortnight,  I  was  quite  impatient  to  get  home.  If 
I  at  any  time  heard  the  dogs  bark  or  a  noise  out  I 
thought  there  was  a  person  sent  for  me.  I  often 
fancied  he  was  sick  or  some  accident  had  happened 
to  him,  so  that  I  think  it  is  impossible  for  me  to 
leave  him  as  long  as  Mr.  Washington  must  stay 
when  he  comes  down." 

In  Mrs.  Washington's  maternal  anxieties  Wash- 
ington sympathized  with  her,  and  when  the  time 
came  for  "  Jackey  "  to  be  inoculated  for  the  small- 
pox, he  "  withheld  from  her  the  information  and 
purpose,  if  possible  to  keep  her  in  total  ignorance, 
—  till  I  hear  of  his  return  or  perfect  recovery,  — 
she  having  often  wished  that  Jack  would  take  and 
go  through  the  disorder  without  her  knowing  of  it, 
that  she  might  escape  those  tortures  which  sus- 
pense would  throw  her  into." 

As  sweet,  gentle  Patsy  Custis  grew  up  into 
womanhood,  Mrs.  Washington  took  great  comfort 


148   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

in  her  "little  patt,"  and  made  a  constant  com- 
panion of  her.  Mother  and  daughter  used  to  sew 
and  spin  and  knit  together,  while  Washington  and 
Jacky  Custis  were  busy  on  the  farm  or  chasing  the 
fox  in  the  woods  and  hollows  about  Mount  Vernon. 

Patsy  accompanied  her  mother  when  the  mis- 
tress of  Mount  Vernon,  in  her  spandy  white  apron 
and  cap,  her  bunch  of  keys  jingling  at  her  side, 
went  about  the  kitchen  and  slave  quarters,  super- 
intending and  directing.  And  the  face  of  the 
"  dark  lady,"  as  Miss  Custis  was  called  because  of 
her  dusky  eyes  and  olive  skin,  was  a  bright,  wel- 
come sight  in  the  homes  of  sorrow  and  suffering 
where  Mrs.  Washington  was  known  and  loved. 

The  death  of  this  dear  daughter  left  a  great  void 
in  the  Mount  Vernon  home.  Washington  deeply 
mourned  the  "  sweet,  innocent  girl,"  as  he  called 
her.  Of  his  wife's  grief  he  wrote,  "  This  sudden  and 
unexpected  blow  has  almost  reduced  my  wife  to 
the  lowest  ebb  of  misery."  And  he  adds,  "  This 
misery  is  increased  by  the  absence  of  her  son." 

Her  son,  Jacky  Custis,  was  at  this  time  in  King's 
College,  New  York.  The  reason  why  he  was  there 
is  a  story  of  itself.  At  a  very  youthful  age  Jacky 
had  fallen  in  love  with  a  charming  girl  named 
Eleanor  Calvert,  a  descendant  of  the  famous  Lord 
Baltimore.  The  fathers  of  the  young  couple  al- 
lowed them  to  enter  into  a  formal  engagement, 
"  but,"  said  Jacky's  guardian,  "  John  must  be  edu- 
cated before  he  marries  any  one."    So  off  to  King's 


MARTHA     WASHINGTON.  149 

College,  at  New  York,  went  "  John,"  and  there  he 
stayed  three  months,  "  reading  Eleanor  Calvert  in 
every  book,  and  writing  Eleanor  Calvert  in  all  his 
exercises."  Under  such  conditions  education  did 
not  progress  ;  so  at  the  end  of  the  three  months 
Jack  was  permitted  to  return  home,  and  one  bright 
February  morning  he  and  Eleanor  Calvert  were 
married.  Jacky's  mother  sent  this  sweet,  motherly 
note  to  the  young  bride  on  her  wedding  day : 

"  My  dear  Nelly  :  God  took  from  me  a  daugh- 
ter when  June  roses  were  blooming.  He  has  now 
given  me  another  daughter,  about  her  age,  when 
winter  winds  are  blowing,  to  warm  my  heart  again. 
I  am  as  happy  as  one  so  afflicted  and  so  blest  can 
be.  Pray  receive  my  benediction  and  a  wish  that 
you  may  long  live  the  loving  wife  of  my  happy 
son,  and  a  loving  daughter  of 

"  Your  affectionate  mother, 

"  M.  Washington." 


While  the  music  of  wedding  bells  still  lingered 
in  the  air,  harsher  sounds  came  to  disturb  the  peace 
of  the  Washington  home.  The  mutterings  of  war 
grew  loud  and  vehement.  There  had  been  no 
pleasant  tea-drinkings  upon  the  Mount  Vernon  por- 
ticoes since  the  Boston  Tea  Party  in  December, 
but  friends  and  neighbors  met  often  at  the  Wash- 
;ngtons'  to  discuss  politics  and  war  talk.    The  halls 


150    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

and  parlors  of  the  great  house  rang  both  with 
royalistic  speeches  and  patriotic  utterances. 

Mrs.  Washington  went  about  among  her  guests, 
quiet,  agreeable,  unobtrusive.  She  took  small  part 
in  the  debates,  but  she  listened  and  treasured  cer- 
tain remarks,  and  when  the  time  for  action  came 
she  wrote  to  a  friend,  "  My  mind  is  made  up.  My 
heart  is  in  the  cause." 

She  took  a  firm  stand  beside  her  husband. 
"  George  is  right,"  she  wrote.  "  He  always  is." 
Her  pluck  and  spirit  were  active.  All  the  mem- 
bers of  her  household  were  attired  in  homespun, 
that  she  might  do  her  part  towards  starving  the 
English  traders  and  manufacturers  ;  and  her  six- 
teen spinning-wheels  were  humming  busily  all  day, 
while  her  deft  fingers  wove  threads  and  patriotism 
together  into  the  cloth.  Some  time  afterwards 
Mrs.  Washington  showed  with  pride  a  dress  which 
was  made,  during  that  period,  from  the  ravellings 
of  brown  silk  stockings  and  crimson  damask  chair- 
covers. 

Patrick  Henry  and  Edward  Pendleton  stayed 
with  Washington  the  night  before  they  set  out 
with  him  for  the  General  Congress  at  Philadelphia. 
Writing  of  this  visit,  Mr.  Pendleton  said  : 

"  I  was  much  pleased  with  Mrs.  Washington  and 
her  spirit.  She  seemed  ready  to  make  any  sacrifice, 
and  was  cheerful,  though  I  knew  she  felt  anxious. 
She  talked  like  a  Spartan  mother  to  her  son  on 
going  to  battle.     '  I  hope   you  will  all  stand  firm 


MARTHA     WASHINGTON.  151 

—  I  know  George  will,'  she  said.  The  dear  little 
woman  was  busy  from  morning  until  night  with 
domestic  duties ;  but  she  gave  us  much  time  in 
conversation  and  affording  us  entertainment. 
When  we  set  off  in  the  morning,  she  stood  in  the 
door  and  cheered  us  with  good  words,  l  God  be 
with  you,  gentlemen  ! '  " 

To  the  next  Congress,  held  in  May,  1775,  Wash- 
ington went  in  the  uniform  of  a  Virginia  colonel. 
He  had  not  foreseen  his  appointment  as  comman- 
der-in-chief, and  upon  this  event  he  wrote  to  his 
wife  in  a  spirit  of  earnest  modesty  and  real  ten- 
derness : 

"  My  Dearest  :  I  am  now  set  down  to  write 
you  on  a  subject  that  fills  me  with  inexpressible 
concern,  and  this  concern  is  increased  when  I  re- 
flect upon  the  uneasiness  I  know  it  will  give  you. 
It  has  been  determined  in  Congress  that  the  whole 
army  raised  for  the  defence  of  the  American  cause 
shall  be  put  under  my  care,  and  that  it  is  necessary 
for  me  to  proceed  immediately  to  Boston  to  take 
upon  me  the  command  of  it. 

"  You  may  believe  me,  my  dear  Patsy,  when  I 
assure  you,  in  the  most  solemn  manner,  that  so  far 
from  seeking  the  appointment,  I  have  used  every 
endeavor  in  my  power  to  avoid  it,  not  only  from 
my  unwillingness  to  part  with  you  and  the  family, 
but  from  a  consciousness  of  its  being  a  trust  too 
great  for   my  capacity,   and  that  I  should  enjoy 


152    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

more  real  happiness  in  one  month  with  yon  at 
home,  than  I  have  the  most  distant  prospect  of 
finding  abroad  if  my  stay  were  to  be  seven  times 
seven  years.  I  shall  feel  no  pain  from  the  toil  and 
danger  of  the  campaign  ;  my  nnhappiness  will  flow 
from  the  uneasiness  I  know  you  will  feel  from  be- 
ing left  alone." 

Six  months  later,  being  encamped  in  winter 
quarters  at  Cambridge,  Washington  sent  an 
"  invitation "  to  his  wife  asking  her  to  spend 
the  season  with  him,  stating,  as  he  declared, 
uthe  difficulties  which  must  attend  the  journey 
before  her." 

Mrs.  Washington,  however,  a  true  wife  and 
patriot,  did  not  hesitate  once  before  deciding  to 
undertake  the  journey  and  "  spend  the  winter 
with  her  husband  in  a  camp  upon  the  outskirts  of  $, 
city  then  in  possession  of  the  enemy."  As  Wash- 
ington's nephew  wrote  to  the  general,  "she  had 
often  declared  she  would  go  to  camp  if  you  would 
permit  her."  So,  a  few  days  after  the  invitation 
was  received,  she  started  out,  accompanied  by  her 
son  Jack  and  his  wife. 

The  Washington  coach  with  its  four  horses,  its 
postilion  in  white  and  scarlet  livery,  and  the 
general's,  wife  within,  attracted  great  attention^ 
County  people  rushed  to  doors  and  windows  for 
a  sight  of  the  grand  lady  passing  by.  At  all  the 
big  cities  Mrs.  Washington  was  met  by  an  escort 


MARTHA     WASHINGTON,  153 

of  soldiers  in  Continental  uniform,  and  all  the 
great  men  and  their  wives  came  to  pay  her  their 
respects.  Ringing  of  bells  and  enthusiastic  cheer- 
ing greeted  her  on  all  sides.  Such  was  the  atten- 
tion paid  the  modest  little  woman  who  had  never 
been  outside  her  Virginia  homeland,  and  to  her 
there  came  a  feeling  of  mingled  pride  and  won- 
der as  she  realized  Avhat  it  was  to  be  the  wife  of 
General  Washington. 

All  through  the  campaign  it  became  the  custom 
for  Mrs.  Washington  to  spend  the  winters  at 
headquarters  with  her  husband,  while  her  summers 
were  passed  in  anxiety  at  Mount  Vernon.  She 
was  indeed,  as  one  of  her  letters  expressed  it,  "  a 
kind  of  perambulator  through  eight  or  nine  years 
of  the  war." 

Her  "  winterings  "  were  a  consolation  and  help 
to  Washington  in  many  ways.  One  noticeable 
fact  is  that  she  was  able  to  assist  him  in  decid- 
ing questions  of  social  etiquette.  And  more 
questions  of  this  sort  arose  during  the  war  than 
one  would  suppose.  For  although  our  Revolu- 
tionary ancestors  "  fought  and  bled,"  they  also 
danced  and  dined  and  made  merry.  While  the 
army  was  shut  up  in  winter  quarters,  there  were 
calls  to  receive,  dinners  to  be  given,  and  balls  to 
attend.  The  overburdened  general  was  somewhat 
perplexed  by  these  social  obligations,  and  records 
having  committed  "  unintentional  offences." 

But   when    Mrs.    Washington    came    with    her 


154   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

"  ready  tact "  and  "  good  breeding,"  she  rescued 
her  husband  from  all  such  small  annoyances,  and 
whenever  Washington's  "  lady  "  was  at  headquar- 
ters, Washington's  home  was  a  jolly,  comfortable 
sort  of  a  place  where  all  were  welcomed,  generals 
and  their  wives,  young  officers  and  merry  girls. 

Society  was  especially  gay  while  the  army  was 
encamped  at  Morristown.  Mrs.  Washington  came 
to  Morristown  late  in  the  season.  When  the 
Washington  coach  drove  up  and  the  little  woman 
of  simple  dress  and  unassuming  manners  stepped 
out,  some  foolish  folks  mistook  her  for  an  at- 
tendant. It  was  not  until  the  general  himself 
hastened  out  to  meet  her  and  greet  her  tenderly 
that  they  recognized  "  Lady  Washington." 

They  had  yet  to  learn  "  Lady  Washington's  " 
idea  in  regard  to  extravagance  in  dress  or  living 
during  the  war.  Their  eyes  were  opened  when, 
one  afternoon  shortly  after  her  arrival,  some  Mor- 
ristown ladies  went  to  call  upon  her.  They  had 
heard  that  the  general's  wife  was  a  "  very  grand 
lady,"  so  they  dressed  in  their  "  most  elegant 
ruffles  and  silks." 

"And  don't  you  think,"  exclaimed  one  woman 
relating  her  experiences  afterwards,  "  we  found  her 
knitting  and  with  a  speckled  apron  on !  She  re- 
ceived us  very  graciously  and  easily,  but  after  the 
compliments  were  over  she  resumed  her  knitting. 
There  we  were  without  a  stitch  of  work,  and 
sitting  in  state,  but    General  Washington's   lady 


MARTHA     WASHINGTON.  155 

with  her  own  hands  was  knitting  stockings  for 
herself  and  hnsband. 

"And  that  was  not  all.  In  the  afternoon  her 
ladyship  took  occasion  to  say,  in  a  way  that  we 
could  not  be  offended  at,  that  at  this  time  it  was 
very  important  that  American  ladies  should  be 
patterns  of  industry  to  their  country-women,  be- 
cause the  separation  from  the  mother  country  will 
dry  up  the  sources  whence  many  of  our  comforts 
have  been  derived.  We  must  become  independent 
by  our  determination  to  do  without  what  we  can- 
not make  ourselves.  Whilst  our  husbands  and 
brothers  are  examples  of  patriotism,  we  must  be 
patterns  of  industry." 

But  Mrs.  Washington  and  the  general,  although 
the  most  perfect  "  pattern  of  industry "  and  the 
truest  "  example  of  patriotism,"  were  the  first  to 
take  part  in  all  the  harmless  pleasures  of  camp  life. 
Along  the  favorite  bridle-path,  "  Jocky  Hollow," 
the  commander-in-chief  was  often  to  be  seen  gal- 
loping by,  his  wife  frequently  at  his  side  mounted 
on  her  handsome  bay  horse,  and  following  in  their 
train  members  of  the  Life  Guard,  such  young 
officers  as  Benjamin  Grymes,  Tench  Tilghman,  or 
Alexander  Hamilton,  and  such  "  charmers  "  as  the 
Livingston  girls  and  Betsey  Schuyler. 

Mrs.  Washington,  like  her  husband,  was  very 
fond  of  young  people.  She  dearly  loved  Lafayette, 
the  French  "  boy,"  as  he  was  called.  Captain  Col- 
fax was  another  of  her  favorites,  for  whom,  it  is 


156   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

said,  she  netted  a  queue  net  with  her  own  hands. 
She  took  a  motherly  interest  in  Colonel  Hamilton 
and  his  love  affair,  and  Hamilton's  sweetheart, 
Miss  Betsey  Schuyler,  was  a  frequent  visitor  of 
Mrs.  Washington's. 

In  Betsey's  own  words  we  have  an  interesting 
picture  of  the  general's  wife  as  she  appeared  to 
that  enthusiastic  young  woman  on  her  first  meet- 
ing with  her.  "  Soon  after  our  arrival  at  Morris- 
town,"  said  Betsey,  "  an  invitation  was  brought  to 
mamma  and  me  from  Mrs.  Washington.  She 
received  us  so  kindly,  kissing  us  both,  for  the 
general  and  papa  were  very  warm  friends.  She 
was  then  nearly  fifty  years  old,  but  was  still  hand- 
some. She  was  quite  short ;  a  plump  little  woman 
with  dark  brown  eyes,  her  hair  a  little  frosty,  and 
very  plainly  dressed  for  such  a  grand  lady  as  I 
considered  her.  She  wore  a  plain  gown  of  home- 
spun stuff,  a  large  white  neckerchief,  a  neat  cap, 
and  her  plain  gold  wedding  ring  which  she  had 
worn  for  more  than  twenty  years.  Her  gracious 
and  cheerful  manner  delighted  us.  She  was  always 
my  ideal  of  a  true  woman.  Her  thoughts  were 
then  much  on  the  poor  soldiers  who  had  suffered 
during  the  dreadful  winter,  and  she  expressed  her 
joy  at  the  approach  of  a  milder  springtime." 

Martha  Washington's  thought  and  care  for  "the 
poor  soldiers  "  are  dwelt  upon  by  all  who  knew  her. 
At  Valley  Forge,  where  the  suffering  was  most 
intense,   while    Washington    was    writing    to    the 


MARTHA     WASHINGTON.  157 

dilatoiy  Congress  of  the  "soldiers  who  might  be 
traced  by  the  marks  left  upon  the  snow  by  their 
frosted  and  bleeding  feet,"  Mrs.  Washington  was 
doing  all  she  could  to  supply  the  much-needed 
clothing,  warmth,  and  food. 

We  have  glimpses  of  her  travelling,  cloaked  and 
hooded,  her  basket  on  her  arm,  over  the  snow  to 
the  soldiers'  huts,  and  the  words  "  God  bless  Lady 
Washington "  were  heard  from  many  a  "  straw 
pallet "  when  her  kind,  motherly  face  appeared  at 
the  door.  One  woman  who,  as  a  girl,  used  some- 
times to  accompany  Martha  Washington  on  her 
visits  to  the  soldiers'  huts  has  said : 

"  I  never  in  my  life  knew  a  woman  so  busy  from 
early  morning  until  late  at  night  as  was  Lady 
Washington,  providing  comforts  for  the  sick  sol- 
diers. Every  day  excepting  Sunday  the  wives  of 
the  officers  in  camp,  and  sometimes  other  Avomen, 
were  invited  to  Mr.  Potts's  to  assist  her  in  knitting 
socks,  patching  garments,  and  making  shirts  for 
the  poor  soldiers,  when  materials  could  be  pro- 
cured. Every  fair  day  she  might  be  seen  with 
basket  in  hand  and  with  a  single  attendant,  going 
among  the  huts  seeking  the  keenest  and  most 
needy  sufferer,  and  giving  all  the  comforts  to  them 
in  her  power.  On  one  occasion  she  went  to  the 
hut  of  a  dying  sergeant  whose  young  wife  was 
with  him.  His  case  seemed  to  particularly  touch 
the  heart  of  the  good  lady,  and  after  she  had  given 
him  some  wholesome  food  she  had  prepared  with 


158   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

her  own  hands,  she  knelt  down  by  his  straw  pallet 
and  prayed  earnestly  for  him  and  his  wife  with  her 
sweet,  solemn  voice." 

Like  a  true  soldier's  wife,  Mrs.  Washington, 
thinking  always  of  the  troops  and  their  comforts, 
made  light  of  the  hardships  which  she  herself  had 
to  endure.  She  was  heard  to  declare  that  she  pre- 
ferred the  sound  of  the  fife  and  drums  to  all  other 
music,  and  in  later  years  she  could  laugh  in  recall- 
ing the  nightly  alarms  when  she  and  Mrs.  Ford 
had  to  shiver  under  the  bedclothes  while  the  wind 
swept  through  the  room  and  guards  stood  at  the 
open  windows  with  guns  loaded,  ready  to  shoot. 

The  joy  that  greeted  the  victorious  close  of  the 
Revolution  was  shadowed  for  the  Washingtons  by 
the  fate  of  their  dear  "  Jackey  "  Custis.  He  was 
dying  at  Eltham  of  a  fever  contracted  in  the 
trenches  before  Yorktown.  Realizing  that  his  ill- 
ness was  fatal,  his  one  desire  was  to  behold  the 
surrender  of  the  sword  of  Cornwallis.  So  he  was 
supported  to  the  field,  to  be  present  at  the  final 
triumph,  and  was  then  carried  back  to  Eltham  to 
die.  His  poor  wife  and  mother  and  Washington, 
from  the  scene  of  his  victory,  were  all  there  to  say 
good-by. 

When  gentle  Patsy  Custis  died,  Washington, 
they  say,  knelt  beside  her  bed  in  silent  prayer ; 
but  when  he  saw  his  "  Jacky  "  taken  from  him,  his 
playfellow  on  the  farm  and  in  the  chase,  his  com- 
rade-in-arms, the  great-hearted  general,  who  never 


MARTHA     WASHINGTON.  159 

loved  lightly,  threw  himself  on  the  couch  and 
"  wept  like  a  child." 

With  his  usual  reticence  Washington  recorded 
the  death  of  young  Custis : 

"  I  arrived  at  Eltham,  the  seat  of  Colonel  Bas- 
sett,  in  time  to  see  poor  Custis  breathe  his  last. 
This  unexpected  and  affecting  event  threw  Mrs. 
Washington  and  Mrs.  Custis,  who  were  both  pres- 
ent, into  such  deep  distress  that  the  circumstance 
of  it  prevented  my  reaching  this  place  (Mount 
Vernon)  till  the  13th." 

In  their  loneliness  Washington  and  his  wife 
adopted  the  two  younger  children  of  John  Custis. 
Eleanor,  a  little  dark-eyed  girl  of  two,  and  George 
Washington  Parke  Custis,  who  was  only  six 
months  old  when  his  father  died,  became,  hence- 
forth, the  children  of  Mount  Vernon,  petted  by 
the  many  guests  who  came  to  visit  George  and 
Martha  Washington.  Lafayette  recalled  his  first 
glimpse  of  G.  W.  P.  Custis,  standing  on  the  por- 
tico of  Mount  Vernon  beside  his  grandfather. 

"  Pie  was,"  said  Lafayette,  addressing  the  young 
man  himself,  "  a  very  little  gentleman  with  a 
feather  in  his  cap,  holding  fast  to  one  finger  of  the 
good  general's  remarkable  hand,  which  (so  large 
the  hand)  was  all,  my  dear  sir,  you  could  well  do 
at  the  time." 

Of  course  "  Nellie  "  and  "  Master  Washington  " 
were  very  dear  to  their  grandmamma's  heart,  and 
there  are  many  references  to  them  in  her  letters. 


160   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

"  My  little  Nellie  is  getting  well,"  she  writes, 
"and  Tut  (G.  W.  P.  Custis)  is  the  same  claver 
boy  you  left  him." 

But  Mrs.  Washington  found  little  Nellie  some- 
thing of  a  trial  too.  Nellie  was  not  at  all  the 
quiet,  gentle,  orderly  little  girl  her  Aunt  Patsy 
had  been.  She  was  full  of  frisks  and  pranks,  and 
would  not  keep  her  clothes  in  order,  and  would  not 
learn  to  play  upon  the  harpsichord.  When  she 
should  have  been  sewing  or  practising,  her  grand- 
mamma would  suddenly  catch  sight  of  her  flashing 
by  the  window  on  a  half-tamed  colt,  her  ribbons 
flying  behind  her,  her  hat  fallen  on  the  ground,  her 
black  curls  blown  by  the  wind. 

Mrs.  Washington,  however,  was  firm  and  kept 
strict  guard  over  her  wayward  granddaughter. 
Nellie  was  occasionally  reduced  to  tears,  and  wept 
upon  her  harpsichord  until  her  grandpapa  came  to 
her  rescue  and  carried  her  off  for  a  walk  in  the 
meadows  or  a  gallop  over  the  hills. 

Mrs.  Washington,  on  her  part,  pleaded  in  behalf 
of  the  "  claver  boy,"  and  Nellie  declared  "it  was 
well  that  grandpapa  and  not  grandmamma  was 
educating  Washington,  for  grandmamma  certainly 
would  spoil  him." 

The  six  years  that  intervened  between  Wash- 
ington's retirement  to  Mount  Vernon  and  his 
return  to  public  life,  his  "  furlough,"  as  he  called 
them,  were  happy,  but  not  so  quiet  as  he  and  his 
wife  wished  them  to  be.     He  described  his  home 


MARTHA     WASHINGTON.  161 

during  that  period  as  a  "  well  resorted  tavern." 
There  were  always  guests,  and  a  great  many  of 
them,  arriving  and  departing  at  all  hours.  After 
two  years  he  recorded  in  his  diary,  "Dined  with 
only  Mrs.  Washington,  which  I  believe  is  the  first 
instance  of  it  since  my  retirement  from  public  life." 

Yet,  in  spite  of  the  many  guests,  Mrs.  Washing- 
ton never  neglected  her  housekeeping  orders  or 
shortened  her  hour  of  private  devotion  that  always 
followed  breakfast.  And  while  the  morning 
visitors  arrived  and  she  chatted  with  them  of  such 
matters  as  poultry,  children,  and  politics,  she  went 
about  superintending  the  stitches  of  woolly-headed 
little  dark  people  who,  perched  on  stools  about  the 
room,  awaited  the  instruction  of  "  ole  Miss." 

Washington  and  his  wife  were  both  very  loath  to 
leave  their  contented,  busy,  country  life  at  Mount 
Vernon,  where  through  the  livelong  day  spinning- 
wheel  and  weaving-loom  buzzed  cheerily  within, 
while  now  and  then  from  "  grassy  hill-top "  or 
shaded  hollow  came  the  merry  ringing  sound  of 
horn  and  hound.  At  the  close  of  the  war  Wash- 
ington had  expressed  his  wish  to  "  return  speedily 
into  the  bosom  of  that  country  which  gave  me 
birth,  and  in  the  sweet  enjoyment  of  domestic 
happiness  and  the  company  of  a  few  friends  to  end 
my  days  in  quiet."  And  after  his  election  to  the 
Presidency  he  wrote  confidentially  to  General 
Knox  : 

"  My  removal  to  the  chair  of  government  will 


162    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

be  accompanied  by  feelings  not  unlike  those  of  a 
culprit  who  is  going  to  the  place  of  his  execution  ; 
so  unwilling  am  I  in  the  evening  of  a  life  nearly 
consumed  in  public  cares  to  quit  a  peaceful  abode 
for  an  ocean  of  difficulties  without  that  compe- 
tency of  political  skill,  abilities,  and  inclinations 
which  are  necessary  to  manage  a  helm." 

A  letter  from  Mrs.  Washington  to  a  congenial 
friend  sounds  this  same  note  of  keen  regret : 

"  I  little  thought  when  the  war  was  finished 
that  any  circumstances  could  possibly  happen 
which  would  call  the  general  into  public  life 
again.  I  had  anticipated  that  from  that  moment 
we  should  be  suffered  to  grow  old  together,  in 
solitude  and  tranquillity.  That  was  the  first  and 
dearest  wish  of  my  heart.  I  will  not,  however, 
contemplate  with  too  much  regret  disappointments 
that  were  inevitable  ;  though  his  feelings  and  mine 
were  in  perfect  unison  with  respect  to  our  predi- 
lection for  a  private  life,  yet  I  cannot  blame  him 
for  acting  according  to  his  ideas  of  duty  in  obey- 
ing the  voice  of  his  country.  It  is  owing  to  the 
kindness  of  our  numerous  friends  in  all  quarters 
that  my  new  and  unwished-for  situation  is  not 
indeed  a  burden  to  me.  When  I  was  much 
younger  I  should  probably  have  enjoyed  the  inno- 
cent gayeties  of  life  as  much  as  most  persons  of 
my  age  ;  but  I  had  long  since  placed  all  the  pros- 
pects of  my  future  worldly  happiness  in  the  still 
enjoyments  of  the  fireside  at  Mount  Vernon." 


MARTHA     WASHINGTON.  163 

There  is  some  sadness  in  the  thought  of  this 
man  and  woman,  so  simple  in  their  tastes,  in  dis- 
position so  reserved  and  modest,  going  reluctantly, 
out  of  an  exalted  sense  of  duty  and  patriotism,  to 
accept  the  highest  honors  their  country  could 
confer ;  and  as  President  and  "  Mistress  Presi- 
dent" of  the  United  States,  though  envied  by 
many  an  ambitious  man  and  woman,  yet  secretly 
longing  to  sit  beside  the  quiet  "  fireside  at  Mount 
Vernon,"  or  to  stand  upon  its  portico  watching  the 
lights  and  shadows  flitting  across  the  dear  Potomac. 

But  while  Mrs.  Washington  was  homesick  at 
heart  and  writing  confidentially,  "  I  am  more  like 
a  state  prisoner  than  anything  else  ;  there  are  cer- 
tain bounds  set  for  me  from  which  I  must  not 
depart,"  she  never  allowed  her  discontent  to  ap- 
pear, and  performed  her  official  duties  well.  As  a 
social  leader  and  woman  of  affairs  she  is  said  to 
have  been  "  absolutely  colorless,  permitting  no 
political  discussions  in  her  presence."  In  every- 
thing her  dignity  and  "  most  pleasing  affability  " 
were  apparent. 

Friday  evenings  she  held  her  full-dress  recep- 
tions. On  these  occasions  Washington,  without 
hat  or  sword,  walked  among  his  guests  a  private 
gentleman,  while  Mrs.  Washington  received  in 
state,  looking  taller  than  usual  because  of  the 
fashion  of  her  gown  and  her  wonderful  head-dress, 
which  was  known  as  the  "  Queen's  Nightcap." 
These  receptions  came  to  an  end  at  the  early  hour 


164    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

of  nine,  for  it  was  Mrs.  Washington's  wisli  to  save 
her  husband  from  formal  society  as  much  as  pos- 
sible. As  the  clock  struck  nine,  she  would  leave 
her  place  and  remark  with  a  gracious  smile,  "  The 
general  always  retires  at  nine  and  I  usually  pre- 
cede him."  Whereupon,  in  the  words  of  a  con- 
temporary, "all  arose,  made  their  parting  saluta- 
tions, and  withdrew." 

Every  pleasant  afternoon  Mrs.  Washington  went 
riding  in  a  ponderous  but  beautiful  cream-colored 
coach  behind  six  spotless  white  horses.  One  who 
lived  in  the  clays  when  Washington  was  President 
has  left  a  vivid  picture  of  the  "  Mistress  President " 
starting  off  for  a  drive.  "  The  door  opened,"  we 
are  told,  "  when  the  '  beheld  of  all  beholders,'  in  a 
suit  of  dark  silk  velvet  of  an  old  cut,  silver  or  steel 
hilted  small  sword  at  the  left  side,  hair  full 
powdered,  black  silk  hose  and  bag,  accompanied 
by  '  Lady  Washington,'  also  in  full  dress,  appeared 
standing  upon  the  marble  steps.  Presenting  her 
his  hand,  he  led  her  down  to  the  coach  with  that 
ease  and  grace  peculiar  to  him  in  everything,  and, 
as  remembered,  with  the  attentive  assiduity  of  an 
ardent,  youthful  lover,  having  also  handed  in  a 
young  lady,  and  the  door  clapped  to,  Fritz,  the 
coachman,  gave  a  rustling  nourish  with  his  lash, 
which  produced  a  plunging  motion  in  the  leading 
horses,  reined  in  by  postilions,  and  striking  flakes  of 
fire  between  their  heels  and  pebbles  beneath  — 
when 


MARTHA     WASHINGTON.  165 

"  '  Crack  went  the  whip,  round  went  the  wheels, 
As  though  High  street  were  mad.' " 

In  the  midst  of  the  gayeties  and  duties  of  social 
and  official  life,  the  Washington  household  was 
still  run  with  clock-like  regularity.  The  day  be- 
gan at  four  o'clock  for  George  and  Martha  Wash- 
ington. When  Mr.  Peale  was  engaged  to  paint 
Mrs.  Washington's  portrait,  the  time  set  for  the 
first  sitting  was  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning.  At 
this  early  hour  the  painter  hesitated  to  disturb  the 
"  first  lady  in  the  land,"  and  he  took  a  short  walk 
before  knocking  at  the  Washingtons'  door.  Upon 
his  arrival,  Mrs.  Washington  looked  at  the  clock 
and  reminded  Mr.  Peale  that  he  was  late.  And 
after  lie  had  explained,  the  industrious  little 
woman  informed  him  that  she  had  already  attended 
morning  worship,  given  Nellie  a  music  lesson,  and 
read  the  morning  paper. 

Nellie,  entering  her  teens,  was  becoming  a 
beauty,  saucy,  fun-loving,  and  tender-hearted. 
She  was  one  of  the  few  who  had  no  fear  of  Wash- 
ington. Her  bright  repartee  and  clever  stories 
could  chase  away  the  anxious  shadows  from  his 
brow  and  delight  him  into  laughter.  She  remained 
the  same  naughty  Nellie,  however,  and  needed 
such  a  restraining  influence  as  Mrs.  Washington's 
to  keep  her  proper. 

Her  grandmother's  reproofs  were  always  quiet 
and  dignified,  but  they  were  effective.  One  day 
Nellie  and  some  young  girls  who  were  visiting  her 


166    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

came  down  to  breakfast  in  their  morning  gowns. 
Mrs.  Washington  looked,  bnt  made  no  comment. 
The  breakfast  was  half  over  when  Nellie  and  her 
friends  caught  sight  of  a  coach  coming  up  the 
drive.  They  glanced  at  their  gowns  and  exchanged 
looks  of  consternation.  And  when  the  names  of 
some  French  officers  and  young  Charles  Carroll, 
Jr.,  were  announced,  they  turned  to  their  hostess 
in  a  flutter,  begging  to  be  excused  to  go  and  dress. 
But  Mrs.  Washington  shook  her  head  compla- 
cently. 

"No,  remain  as  you  are,"  she  said  decidedly. 
"  What  is  good  enough  for  General  Washington  is 
good  enough  for  any  of  his  guests." 

Washington's  great  responsibilities  inclined  to 
make  him  absent-minded.  But  his  wife  could  re- 
call him.  Nellie  remembered  seeing  her  grand- 
mother seize  the  general  by  the  buttonhole  when 
she  had  anything  special  to  communicate.  Where- 
upon the  general  would  look  down  upon  the  little 
woman  with  a  "  benignant "  smile  and  become  in- 
stantly attentive  to  her  slightest  wish. 

Finally  there  came  an  end  to  Washington's  long 
term  of  service  for  his  country,  and  he  and  his 
wife  gladly  returned  to  their  "  Mount  Vernon 
fireside  "  and  "  the  tranquil  enjoyments  of  rural 
life."  The  "  first  and  dearest  wish "  of  their 
"  heart  "  was  granted,  and  as  Farmer  Washington 
and  wife  they  grew  old  together.  But  their  days 
of  vacation  were  not  many.     Less  than  three  years 


MARTHA     WASHINGTON.  167 

brought  to  a  close  their  forty  years  of  married 
life. 

When  the  great  general  died  his  wife  was  unu- 
sually composed.  "I  shall  soon  follow  him,"  she 
said  simply. 

During  her  last  days  she  liked  best  to  sit  alone 
in  a  little  attic  room  where,  from  the  window,  she 
could  see  her  husband's  grave  across  the  lawn,  and 
look  down  upon  the  light  of  the  wild  flowers  along 
the  river  bank,  and  beyond  to  the  bright  waters 
of  the  Potomac  he  loved  so  dearly. 


VII. 


ABIGAIL   ADAMS, 

WIFE    OF    JOHN    ADAMS    AND   MOTHER    OF    JOHN 

QUINCY   ADAMS. 

Born  in  Weymouth,  Nov.  11,  1744. 
Died  at  Braintree,  Oct.  28,  1818. 

"  She  was  a  woman  of  rare  mind,  high  courage,  and  of  a 
patriotism  not  less  intense  and  devoted  than  that  of  any  hero  of 
the  Revolution."  —  John  T.  Morse,  Jr. 

John  Adams,  writing  to  his  wife  amid  the  con- 
fusion and  debate  of  the  General  Congress  at  Phila- 
delphia, called  her  "  saucy."  He  said  it  laughingly, 
for  her  sauciness  pleased  him.  It  always  had. 
John  Adams  admired  wit  and  spirit  in  a  woman. 
He  must  have  or  he  never  would  have  married 
Abigail  Adams. 

If  Abigail  Adams  was  saucy  as  a  wife  she  was 
quite  as  saucy  as  a  girl.  When  she  and  her 
"  dearest  friend,"  as  she  called  John  Adams,  were 
engaged,  she  would  make  no  promise  to  become  an 
obedient  wife  or  to  fear  her  husband.  "  As  a 
critic  I  fear  you,"  she  admitted.  "  And  't  is  the 
only  character,"  she  added  with  delightful  candor, 
"  in  which  I  ever  did  or  ever  will  fear  you.  What 
say  you  ?     Do  you  approve  of  that  speech  ?     Don't 

169 


170   COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

you  think  me  a  courageous  being  ?  Courage  is  a 
laudable,  a  glorious  virtue  in  your  sex,  why  not  in 
mine  ?  For  my  part  I  think  you  ought  to  applaud 
me  for  mine." 

And  he  did  "  applaud  "  her  for  hers.  Indeed,  he 
had  good  reason  to  do  so.  For  had  it  not  been  for 
her  "  courage,"  she  would  never  have  become  his 
wife. 

Her  friends  and  relatives  disapproved  of  the 
match.  Plain  John  Adams,  one  of  the  "  dishonest 
tribe  of  lawyers,"  son  of  a  small  country  farmer, 
was  not  considered  worthy  of  Miss  Abigail  Smith, 
the  parson's  daughter,  descendant  of  John  Quincy 
and  Thomas  Shephard  and  a  long,  illustrious  line 
of  good  Puritan  divines.  When  John  Adams  was 
mentioned  Miss  Abby  heard  words  of  warning 
and  disapproval  passed  upon  all  sides.  But  the 
independent  young  lady  was  not  frightened  by 
them.  She  kept  her  own  opinion  of  honest  John 
in  his  coat  of  homespun. 

Sunday  evenings,  when  John  came  riding  from 
his  Braintree  home  along  the  wooded  country 
roads  to  the  Weymouth  parsonage,  Miss  Abby  was 
always  there  to  entertain  him.  Sometimes  she 
teased  him  with  such  remarks  as  "  Do  you  think 
my  letters  cheap,  sir  ?  Don't  you  light  your  pipe 
with  them  ?  "  and  "  Why,  my  good  man,  thou  hast 
the  curiosity  of  a  girl."  Sometimes  she  "  turned 
the  other  side,"  as  she  expressed  it,  was  "  sober  " 
and  asked  him  to  tell  her  all  her  faults.     "  Be  to 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  171 

me  a  second  conscience,"  she  entreated.  But  at 
all  times  she  behaved  toward  him  as  a  young 
woman  does  toward  the  man  she  has  chosen  to  be 
her  husband.  She  had  decided  to  marry  him 
"  whether  or  no,"  and  her  father's  parishioners 
might  turn  their  attention  to  some  more  docile 
girl. 

Miss  Abby,  however,  was  not  the  only  member 
of  the  Weymouth  church  who  held  John  Adams 
in  esteem.  Her  father,  Parson  Smith,  had  a  strong 
regard  for  the  young  lawyer.  Dr.  Smith,  like  his 
daughter,  was  a  person  of  good  judgment.  He 
observed  that  John  Adams,  in  spite  of  his  profes- 
sion, was  honest.  He  looked  beyond  the  coat  of 
homespun  and  the  awkward  manners  and  saw  that 
John  Adams  was  a  genuine  gentleman.  He  forgot 
their  respective  ancestors  in  admiring  those  quali- 
ties of  zeal,  determination,  and  "  the  infinite  capac- 
ity for  taking  pains  "  that  made  John  Adams  great. 
And  he  was  not  ashamed  to  receive  such  a  young 
man  as  a  son-in-law. 

Possibly  the  sensible  doctor  had  an  amused  con- 
tempt for  the  narrow-mindedness  of  his  Puritan 
people  who  spoke  so  slightingly  of  the  lawyer  lover 
and  could  see  no  good  in  any  but  ministers  and 
ministers'  sons.  At  any  rate,  an  old  familiar  anec- 
dote in  the  Adams  family  implies  as  much.  The 
story  that  has  come  down  to  us,  like  a  smile  on 
the  face  of  those  serious  times,  is  that  when  the 
day  arrived  for  Parson  Smith  to  preach  his  daughter 


172    COLONIAL   DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

Abby's  wedding  sermon  he  chose  for  his  text  the 
words,  "  John  came  neither  eating  bread  nor  drink- 
ing wine,  and  yet  ye  say  he  hath  a  devil."  And 
as  the  force  of  this  Scriptural  passage,  spoken  ever 
so  solemnly,  fell  upon  the  ears  of  his  listening 
parishioners  there  were  those  in  the  little  Wey- 
mouth meeting-house  who  understood  and  there 
were  those  who  did  not  understand.  But  we  may 
be  sure  that  the  young  couple,  in  fresh  attire,  for 
whose  benefit  the  text  was  chosen  were  of  the 
former  sort.  For  John  Adams  and  his  wife  were 
at  no  time  lacking  in  a  sense  of  humor. 

John  Adams's  wife  was  not  yet  twenty  when,  in 
the  brilliant  autumn  weather  of  the  year  1764,  she 
married  him  and  went  to  live  in  the  small  frame- 
house  on  the  Braintree  road.  She  was,  however,  a 
young  woman  "  wise  beyond  her  years."  Her  edu- 
cation and  surroundings  had  made  her  so.  "  I 
never  went  to  school,"  she  once  said  regretfully. 
But  we  know  that  in  those  days  a  girl  who  "  never 
went  to  school  "  was  by  no  means  a  phenomenon. 
It  was  not  unusual  for  a  girl,  even  in  Massachusetts, 
to  receive  no  regular  schooling.  Indeed,  Massa- 
chusetts, although  it  boasted  the  most  learned  and 
cultivated  men  in  America,  was  quite  as  negligent 
in  the  education  of  its  women  as  any  of  the  other 
colonies.  Possibly  the  Puritan  rulers  of  the  prov- 
ince recalled  the  early  example  of  the  brilliant 
Anne  Hutchinson,  who  so  nearly  turned  the  coun- 
sels   of   the    elders    to    naught,  and   consequently 


ABIGAIL   ADAMS.  173 

were  determined  that  no  other  woman  should  be- 
come too  wise  for  them.  At  all  events,  they  took 
no  pains  to  have  their  daughters  well  taught.  The 
three  R's  were  considered  a  very  liberal  allowance 
of  book  knowledge  for  any  young  woman.  Indeed, 
"it  was  the  fashion,"  as  Mrs.  Adams  herself  de- 
clared, "to  ridicule  female  learning."  And  so 
Miss  Abigail  grew  up,  like  many  another  colonial 
girl,  without  the  intellectual  training  of  the  school- 
room and  without  any  of  the  pleasant  school  friend- 
ships and  experiences  that  go  to  make  the  happiness 
of  childhood. 

She  was,  however,  more  fortunate  than  most 
little  girls  of  her  time  in  her  home  influences. 
These  were  distinctly  literary.  The  high  standing 
of  her  family,  her  father's  profession,  and  the  near 
neighborhood  of  Harvard  College  brought  the  most 
refined  and  educated  people  of  the  province  to  the 
Weymouth  parsonage.  She  must  have  sat  by  often, 
as  a  child,  fixing  her  big  bright  eyes  on  her  father's 
guests  as  they  talked,  listening  and  understanding 
more  than  any  one  supposed.  And  although  she 
"never  went  to  school,"  she  heard  what  learned 
people  thought  and  knew. 

Then,  too,  she  had  some  very  good  friends  in  her 
father's  library.  For  there  she  became  acquainted 
with  the  English  poets  and  prose  writers.  There 
can  have  been  no  happier  times  for  her  than  those 
hours  spent  among  the  books,  curled  up  in  some 
comfortable  corner  with  Pope's  verses  or  a  bound 


174   COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

volume  of  the  "Spectator"  or  one  of  Mr.  Richard- 
son's novels.  She  grew  up  with  the  ideas  and 
fancies  of  the  poets  and  with  the  people  of  the 
story  world,  and  her  early  familiarity  with  the  best 
English  authors  showed  in  her  letters  all  through 
life.  She  wrote  of  them  and  quoted  from  them 
as  one  who  had  always  known  and  loved  them. 

Besides  her  books  Abby  had  another  friend  who 
taught  her  a  great  deal.  At  Mount  Wollaston,  the 
"  Merry  Mount,"  as  a  part  of  Brain  tree  was  then 
called,  lived  her  grandfather,  the  famous  John 
Quincy.  At  his  home  Abby  used  to  spend  much 
of  her  time,  in  the  company  of  her  grandmother,  a 
woman  of  "genuine  manners  and  culture."  We 
can  fancy  Miss  Abby  seated  with  her  knitting  on 
a  low  hassock  beside  her  grandmother's  rocking- 
chair,  listening  while  the  old  lady  told  amusing 
stories  or  tales  of  heroes  in  myth  and  fable,  or 
while  she  gave  those  helpful  lessons  which  her 
admiring  granddaughter  never  forgot,  and  referred 
to,  years  after,  as  "  oracles  of  wisdom." 

And  we  may  call  up  another  picture  of  Miss 
Abby  in  her  girlhood,  that  of  the  entertaining  pen- 
woman  writing  her  first  letters.  One  imagines  her 
and  her  sisters,  Mary,  the  elder,  and  Betsey,  the 
younger,  gathered  round  the  table  with  ink  and 
quills  and  blotting-sand,  while  their  mother  is  near 
to   correct   mistakes    and  answer  the  oft-repeated 

query,  "  How  do  you  spell ?  "     Letter-writing 

was  a  highly  cultivated  art  in  those  days,  a  very 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  175 

necessary  part  of  every  one's  education.  Parson 
Smith's  young  daughters  were  set  early  to  the  task 
of  producing  small  essays  for  the  benefit  of  a  far- 
away cousin  or  friend.  Some  of  these  letters  still 
remain,  and  along  with  the  town  news,  bits  of  gos- 
sip, and  fun-making  contained  in  their  pages,  ap- 
pear criticisms  on  books  and  long  quotations  from 
favorite  authors  which  show  the  literary  turn  of 
the  writers'  minds.  As  another  proof  of  their 
book-loving  tastes  these  youthful  correspondents 
delighted  to  sign  themselves  under  fictitious  names. 
Miss  Abby  was  Diana  until  the  time  of  her  mar- 
riage, and  then  she  gave  up  her  maiden  name  and 
became  Portia. 

Under  such  influences  and  surroundings  Abigail 
Smith  grew  up  a  delicate,  brilliant-looking  girl 
with  a  bright,  vivacious  manner  and  a  tongue  that 
was  ever  ready  with  pertinent  questions  and  replies. 
In  her  childhood  she  had  few  acquaintances  of  her 
own  age,  and  her  friendships  had  been  almost  en- 
tirely with  older  people  and  characters  in  books. 
This  had  made  her  unusually  imaginative  and  sen- 
sitive, but,  fortunately  for  her,  her  father's  good 
sense  and  fun-loving  spirit  had  descended  upon  her. 
So  she  was  preserved  from  the  too  great  sensibility 
and  lack  of  common  sense  which  her  peculiar  bring- 
ing up  might  otherwise  have  caused.  She  was 
romantic,  but  she  was  practical  too,  and  quite  capa- 
ble, as  we  shall  see,  of  looking  after  a  house,  farm, 
and  family. 


176   COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

Her  term  of  so-called  young-ladyhood  was  not 
long.  Early  marriages  were  the  fashion  and  in  this 
she  followed  the  custom  of  her  time.  One  of  her 
letters  of  this  period,  however,  has  found  its  way 
down  to  us  and  shows  us  how  natural  and  girlish 
she  was.  As  we  read  it,  we  fall  to  wondering 
whether,  when  she  wrote  it,  she  had  not  already 
begun  to  think  of  John  Adams.  She  gives  us  no 
hints.  Indeed,  she  denies  the  charge  of  having  any 
lover.  But  the  nature  of  the  denial  makes  us  ex- 
claim with  Othello,  "  Methinks  the  lady  doth  pro- 
test too  much." 

"You  hid  me,"  she  writes  to  her  friend  Mrs. 
Lincoln,  "  tell  one  of  my  sparks  (I  think  that  was 
the  word)  to  bring  me  to  see  you.  Why !  I  be- 
lieve you  think  they  are  as  plenty  as  herring  when, 
alas  !  there  is  as  great  scarcity  of  them  as  there  is 
of  justice,  honesty,  prudence,  and  many  other  vir- 
tues. I  've  no  pretensions  to  one.  .  .  .  But  to 
be  sober,  I  should  really  rejoice  to  come  and  see  you 
but  if  I  wait  till  I  get  a  (what  did  you  call  'em  ?) 
I  fear  you  '11  be  blind  with  age." 

About  the  date  of  this  letter  John  Adams  was 
"  shaking  hands  with  the  bar,"  as  he  expressed  it, 
living  on  the  expectation  of  clients  and  fees, 
and  also  receiving  the  advice  of  the  shrewd 
old  Boston  lawyer,  Jeremiah  Gridly,  "  not  to  marry 
early,  for  an  early  marriage  will  obstruct  your  im- 
provement and  involve  you  in  expense." 

But,  a  few  years  later,  that  event  had  occurred 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  177 

which  made  it  possible  for  Mrs.  Lincoln  to  behold 
Miss  Abby  and  her  "  spark  "  before  she  herself  was 
"  blind  with  age  "  and  which  brought  Mr.  Gridly 
to  the  conclusion  that  an  early  marriage  does  not 
always  "  obstruct  a  young  man's  improvement  and 
involve  him  in  expense." 

John  Adams  and  his  wife  began  housekeeping  in 
a  very  modest  way.  Their  manner  of  living  Avas 
quite  different  from  that  of  the  Washingtons. 
When  Mrs.  Custis  married  George  Washington  he 
was  a  wealthy  gentleman  and  a  celebrated  colonel. 
Their  home  was  one  of  wealth  and  elaborate  hospi- 
tality. But  the  man  whom  Miss  Abigail  Smith 
married  was  neither  rich  nor  distinguished.  To 
be  sure,  he  was  a  graduate  of  Harvard  College  and 
a  promising  young  lawyer  in  his  own  province,  but 
he  was  "  only  a  farmer's  son  "  and  his  means  were 
moderate.  There  was  nothing  imposing  about  the 
home  to  which  he  brought  his  young  bride,  the 
little  farmhouse  on  the  country  road,  at  the  foot  of 
Penn's  Hill.  Yet  John  and  Abigail  Adams  were 
as  happy  there  as  ever  they  were  afterwards  in  their 
London  drawing-rooms  and  the  halls  of  the  White 
House.  And  we  may  be  sure  that  Mrs.  Adams  had 
no  thoughts  nor  wishes  of  coming  greatness  nor 
any  dreams  of  ambassadors'  balls  and  presidential 
mansions  when  she  was  in  the  dairy  of  the  Brain- 
tree  farmhouse  skimming  milk  or  in  the  kitchen 
polishing  her  pots  and  pans.  Nor  did  the  homely 
domestic  duties  of  her  early  married  life  in  any  way 


178   COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

unfit  her  for  the  part  she  was  to  play  in  latter  days 
as  the  wife  of  the  first  American  minister  to  Eng- 
land and  the  lady  of  the  second  president  of  the 
United  States. 

The  first  ten  years  of  her  married  life  passed 
quietly  and  busily  either  in  Boston  or  Braintree. 
During  those  early  days  before  the  Revolution  she 
was  mostly  occupied  with  her  domestic  responsi- 
bilities and  the  care  of  her  babies.  But  she  found 
time  to  interest  herself  in  her  husband's  profes- 
sional studies  and  she  sympathized  wholly  with 
him  in  his  ideas  on  public  affairs.  Even  so  soon 
she  was  showing  her  genius  for  politics,  and,  while 
she  kept  her  eyes  open  to  the  situation  of  her 
country,  she  was  preparing  herself  for  the  stand  she 
was  to  take  in  the  coming  struggle. 

We  have  a  glimpse  of  her  at  this  period  in  a 
letter  she  wrote  to  her  husband  while  he  was  away 
"  on  the  circuit."  Parson  Smith  had  brought  his 
daughter  and  his  young  grandchildren,  Abby  and 
Johnny,  to  the  old  home  for  a  short  visit.  It  was 
early  one  Sunday  evening  at  the  Weymouth  par- 
sonage. Dr.  Warren,  the  dear  friend  and  physi- 
cian of  the  Adams's,  whose  brave  death  on  Bunker 
Hill  ten  years  later  they  were  to  mourn  so  deeply, 
was  standing  in  the  doorway  "  booted  and  spurred," 
waiting  for  Mrs.  Abigail's  letter  which  he  was  to 
carry  with  him  when  he  set  out.  Before  the  hearth 
"  our  daughter  "  was  rocking  "  our  son,"  the  future 
president,  to  sleep  with  the  song :   u  Come,  papa, 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  179 

come  home  to  brother  Johnny."  And  by  the 
window,  in  the  falling  twilight,  their  young  mother 
was  writing  to  their  "  papa  "  that  Sunday  seemed 
"a  longer  day  than  any  other  when  you  are  ab- 
sent" Fortunately  for  Mrs.  Adams  she  could 
not  foresee  how  many  other  Sundays  in  the  future 
were  to  pass  like  this  one  without  the  congenial 
companionship  of  her  "  dearest  friend." 

Yet  it  was  not  so  many  years  later  that  she  was 
called  upon  to  part  with  him  on  a  long  journey  and 
a  dangerous  mission.  In  August  of  the  year  1774 
John  Adams  left  home  in  the  company  of  Samuel 
Adams,  Thomas  Cushing,  and  Robert  Treat  Paine 
for  the  General  Congress  at  Philadelphia. 

And  now  begins  the  famous  correspondence  be- 
tween Mrs.  Adams  and  her  husband,  which  is  val- 
uable no  less  for  the  near  acquaintance  it  affords 
us  with  the  characters  of  the  writers  than  for  the 
atmosphere  and  color  it  gives  to  the  historical  facts 
of  the  time.  Never  do  we  like  John  Adams  so 
well  as  during  those  first  years  of  the  Revolution. 
Honors  and  fame  had  not  yet  made  him  vain,  head- 
strong, and  presumptuous.  He  was  full  of  noble 
patriotism  and  a  generous  sense  of  brotherhood. 
Sometimes  he  grows  a  little  bitter  over  the  sacri- 
fice he  feels  that  he  is  making  at  the  cost  of  his 
family  and  writes  to  his  wife,  like  the  sturdy  Pur- 
itan descendant  that  he  was,  "  For  God's  sake, 
make  your  children  hardy,  active,  and  industrious  ; 
for   strength,   activity,   and  industry  will  be  their 


180    COLONIAL   DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

only  resource  and  dependence."  Sometimes  he 
becomes  despondent  over  public  affairs,  for  his  im- 
patient, energetic  spirit  chafed  at  the  delays  of 
people  less  courageous  than  himself.  But  the 
American  cause  was  too  dear  to  him  for  him  to  de- 
spair more  than  temporarily.  And  his  momentary 
fits  of  gloom  are  almost  forgotten  in  hopeful  reflec- 
tions and  bursts  of  high  spirit. 

John  Adams's  letters  are  delightful,  but  his  wife's 
are  even  more  so.  Their  style,  so  vivid,  bright, 
and  entertaining,  has  given  her  a  place  among  the 
world's  most  charming  letter-writers,  and  their 
tone  of  cheerfulness,  courage,  and  intense  patriot- 
ism has  won  for  her  universal  admiration.  The 
dryest  of  historians  becomes  eloquent  when  talking 
of  Abigail  Adams,  and  one  of  John  Adams's  ablest 
biographers  goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  she  would 
have  been  as  distinguished  as  her  husband  had  she 
not  been  handicapped  by  her  sex. 

She  made  her  sacrifices  and  faced  her  dangers 
bravely,  like  other  patriots.  In  John  Adams's  own 
words  we  are  told  how  she  encouraged  him  in  his 
intention  to  devote  himself  to  his  country  and 
"  bursting  into  a  flood  of  tears,  said  she  was  sensi- 
ble of  all  the  danger  to  her  and  to  our  children  as 
well  as  to  me,  but  she  thought  I  had  done  as  I 
ought.  She  was  very  willing  to  share  in  all  that 
was  to  come  and  to  place  her  trust  in  Providence." 

The  dangers  "  to  her  and  to  our  children  "  were 
not   slight.     Braintree,    where   she   and   the   four 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  181 

little  Adamses  were  staying,  was  close  to  the 
British  lines.  Raids  and  foraging  parties  were  to 
be  feared  continually.  There  was  little  prospect  of 
more  peaceful  times.  And  while,  in  Philadelphia, 
John  Adams  was  proving  himself  "  the  most  arrant 
and  determined  rebel  in  the  Congress,"  Mrs. 
Adams,  at  home,  was  preparing  herself,  by  reading 
and  reflection,  for  war.  "  Did  ever  any  kingdom 
or  state,"  she  asks  her  husband,  "  regain  its  liberty 
without  bloodshed  ?  I  cannot  think  of  it  without 
horror.  Yet  we  are  told  that  all  the  misfortunes 
of  Sparta  were  occasioned  by  their  too  great  solici- 
tude for  present  tranquillity,  and  from  an  excessive 
love  of  peace  they  neglected  the  means  of  making 
it  sure  and  lasting.  '  They  ought  to  have  re- 
flected,' says  Polybius,  that  'as  there  is  nothing 
more  desirable  or  advantageous  than  peace  when 
founded  in  justice  and  honor,  so  there  is  nothing 
more  shameful  and  at  the  same  time  more  perni- 
cious when  attained  by  bad  measures  and  purchased 
at  the  price  of  liberty  ! '  " 

Yet  even  at  this  intensely  serious  time  her  love 
of  fun  had  not  deserted  her.  She  draws  an  amus- 
ing picture  of  the  cows  on  the  Braintree  farm  suf- 
fering from  the  drought,  and  "  preferring  "  to  John 
Adams  and  his  colleagues  in  Philadelphia  "  a  peti- 
tion setting  forth  their  grievances,  and  informing 
you  that  they  have  been  deprived  of  their  ancient 
privileges,  and  desiring  that  they  may  be  restored 
to  them.     More  especially  as  their  living  by  reason 


182   COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

of  the  drought  is  all  taken  from  them  and  their 
property  which  they  hold  elsewhere  is  decaying 
they  humbly  pray  that  you  will  consider  them  lest 
hunger  should  break  through  stone  walls."  This 
was  a  clever  parody  on  the  documents  which  Con- 
gress was  then  receiving.  It  certainly  was  a  time 
of  upheaval  where  even  the  cows  were  complaining. 
In  a  letter  dated  September  14,  this  special  cor- 
respondent of  Revolutionary  days  informs  her  hus- 
band of  the  "  warlike  preparations "  which  the 
governor  was  making  in  Boston  —  the  mounting 
of  cannon  upon  Beacon  Hill,  digging  in trenchments 
upon  the  Neck,  placing  cannon  there,  throwing  up 
breastworks,  and  encamping  a  regiment.  And  then 
she  goes  on  to  give  a  graphic  account  of  how  they 
secured  the  gunpowder  from  the  British  in  her  own 
town  of  Braintree.  "  About  eight  o'clock  Sunday 
evening,"  she  writes,  "  two  hundred  men,  preceded 
by  a  horse-cart,  passed  by  the  door,  marched  down 
to  the  powder-house,  took  the  powder,  carried  it 
into  the  next  parish,  where  there  were  fewer 
Tories,  and  hid  it  there."  Upon  their  return  Mrs. 
Adams,  who  could  not  restrain  her  interest  in  their 
proceedings,  opened  her  window  and  looked  out. 
And  one  of  the  men,  recognizing  her,  asked  if  she 
wanted  any  powder.  "No,"  she  replied,  " since  it 
is  in  such  good  hands."  Then  she  tells  how  on  the 
way  they  captured  a  "  King's  Man,"  who  held  two 
warrants  against  the  Commonwealth.  The  men 
commanded   him  to  give  these  up,  and   upon  his 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS,  183 

producing  them,  they  formed  themselves  into  an 
orderly  debating  society,  and  voted  whether  or  not 
they  should  burn  the  hostile  papers.  The  affirma- 
tives had  it.  And  so,  by  the  light  of  a  single  lan- 
tern, standing  about  in  an  impressive  circle,  grim 
and  judicial,  they  burned  the  offending  warrants. 
"  They  then  called  a  vote,"  continues  Mrs.  Adams, 
"  whether  they  should  huzza,  but  it  being  Sunday 
evening,  the  vote  passed  in  the  negative."  One 
wonders  at  the  conscience  and  self-control  of  those 
Puritan  patriots.  The  most  enthusiastic  must  have 
wished  it  were  any  day  but  Sunday. 

This  interesting  letter  and  Mrs.  Adams's  other 
letters  of  the  same  year  (1774)  were  written  to  her 
husband  during  the  session  of  the  first  Congress  at 
Philadelphia.  The  first  Congress  sat  only  a  few 
months.  It  merely  consulted  and  remonstrated. 
But  the  second  Congress,  to  which  John  Adams  set 
out  in  April  of  the  following  year,  was  occupied 
with  graver  matter  than  that  of  consultation  and 
remonstrance.  The  first  gun  had  been  fired  at 
Lexington  only  four  days  before  his  departure. 
Congress  now  had  to  deliberate  and  debate  con- 
cerning war.  And  meanwhile  the  actual  battle 
was  being  fought  in  the  near  neighborhood  of  the 
Braintree  farmhouse. 

From  the  top  of  Penn's  Hill  Mrs.  Adams  could 
watch  the  struggle  that  was  to  bring  about  the  inde- 
pendence of  America.  One  hot  June  afternoon,  with 
her  daughter  Abby  and  her  little  son  John  Quincy, 


184    COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

she  climbed  to  the  summit  of  the  hill  and  there, 
looking  through  the  clear  air  across  the  bay,  she 
saw  the  flaming  ruin  of  Charlestown  and  the  smoke 
and  fire  of  Bunker  Hill.  And  the  next  day,  while 
"  the  distant  roar  of  the  cannon  "  was  still  sound- 
ing in  her  ears  and  so  "  distressing  "  her  that  she 
could  neither  "  eat,  drink,  nor  sleep,"  her  "  burst- 
ing heart  found  vent  at  her  pen,"  and  in  a  moment 
of  intense  "  agitation,"  sympathy  for  her  suffering 
countrymen,  and  grief  at  the  death  of  her  friend 
Dr.  Warren,  she  wrote  to  her  husband  : 

" c  The  race  is  not  to  the  swift  nor  the  battle  to 
the  strong ;  but  the  God  of  Israel  is  He  that  giveth 
strength  and  power  unto  his  people.  Trust  in  him 
at  all  times,  ye  people,  pour  out  your  hearts  before 
him;  God  is  a  refuge  for  us.'  Charlestown  is  laid 
in  ashes.  The  battle  began  upon  our  intrench- 
ments  upon  Bunker's  Hill  Saturday  morning  about 
three  o'clock  and  has  not  ceased  yet,  and  it  is  now 
three  o'clock  Sabbath  afternoon.  It  is  expected 
they  will  come  over  the  Neck  to-night  and  a  dread- 
ful battle  must  ensue.  Almighty  God,  cover  the 
heads  of  our  countrymen  and  be  a  shield  to  our 
dear  friends.  How  many  have  fallen  we  know 
not.  May  we  be  supported  and  sustained  in  the 
dreadful  conflict." 

On  a  blustering  March  day  in  the  following 
year  she  was  again  on  the  hilltop  and  witnessed 
the  storming  of  Dorchester  Heights.  "  I  have  just 
returned  from  Perm's  Hill,"  she  writes,  "  where  I 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  185 

have  been  sitting  to  hear  the  amazing  roar  of  can- 
non and  from  whence  I  could  see  every  shell  that 
was  thrown.  The  sound  I  think  is  one  of  the 
grandest  in  nature.  'Tis  now  an  incessant  roar; 
but  oh,  the  fatal  ideas  that  are  connected  with  that 
sound.     How  many  of  our  countrymen  must  fall." 

That  night  she  went  to  bed  at  twelve,  she  says, 
and  was  up  again  a  little  after  one.  She  could  not 
sleep  for  the  "  rattling  of  windows,  the  jar  of  the 
house,  the  continued  roar  of  twenty-four-pounders, 
and  the  bursting  of  shell." 

Finally,  only  a  few  days  after  that  dreadful 
night,  she  stood  at  her  lookout  on  Penn's  Hill  and 
watched  the  British  fleet  of  one  hundred  and 
seventy  sail  drop  down  the  harbor  and  vanish  from 
Boston  water.  She  was  impressed  Avith  the 
number  of  boats.  It  looked  "  like  a  forest,"  she 
said.  And  wi'th  patriotic  pride  she  exclaimed, 
"  Our  general  may  say  with  Caesar,  '  Veni,  vidi, 
vici.' " 

During  the  many  months  in  which  the  war  raged 
round  her  doors  her  house  was  an  asylum  where 
soldiers  came  for  a  lodging,  breakfast,  supper,  and 
drink,  where  the  tired  refugees  from  Boston  sought 
refuge  for  a  day,  a  night,  or  a  week.  "  You  can 
hardly  imagine  how  we  live,"  she  writes,  "  yet  — 

u  '  To  the  houseless  child  of  want 
Our  doors  are  open  still, 
And  though  our  portions  are  but  scant 
We  give  them  with  good  will.'  " 


186    COLONIAL   DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

When  news  of  the  raids,  battles,  and  burnings 
around  Boston  reached  the  ears  of  John  Adams 
he  naturally  felt  great  anxiety  for  the  safety  of  his 
wife  and  children.  From  the  "  far  country,"  as 
Mrs.  Adams  called  Philadelphia  in  those  days  of 
travelling  coach  and  post  chaise,  he  sent  words  of 
encouragement  and  stoical  advice.  "  In  a  cause 
which  interests  the  whole  globe,"  he  says,  "at  a 
time  when  my  friends  and  my  country  are  in  such 
keen  distress,  I  am  scarcely  ever  interrupted  in  the 
least  degree  by  apprehensions  for  my  personal 
safety.  I  am  often  concerned  for  you  and  our 
dear  babes,  surrounded  as  you  are  by  people  who 
are  too  timorous  and  too  susceptible  of  alarms. 
Many  fears  and  jealousies  and  imaginary  evils  will 
be  suggested  to  you,  but  I  hope  you  will  not  be 
impressed  by  them.  In  case  of  real  danger,  of 
which  you  cannot  fail  to  have  previous  intimations, 
fly  to  the  woods  with  our  children." 

This  startling  alternative  of  "  flying  to  the  woods 
with  our  children  "  might  have  frightened  a  woman 
less  brave  than  Mrs.  Adams.  But  John  Adams 
knew  his  wife's  firm  mettle.  Her  letters  are  con- 
tinually giving  him  proof  of  her  cheerfulness  and 
courage.  "  I  have  been  distressed  but  not  dis- 
mayed," she  writes ;  and  again,  "  Hitherto  I  have 
been  able  to  maintain  a  calmness  and  presence  of 
mind  and  hope  I  shall,  let  the  exigency  of  the  time 
be  what  it  will."     She  chides  him  for  fearing  to  tell 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  187 

her  bad  news.     "  Don't  you  know  me  better  than 
to  think  me  a  coward  ?  "  she  says. 

Her  husband  gave  expression  to  his  pride  and 
pleasure  in  her  "  fortitude."  "  You  are  really 
brave,  my  dear,"  he  tells  her.  "  You  are  a  heroine 
and  you  have  reason  to  be.  For  the  worst  that 
can  happen  can  do  you  no  harm.  A  soul  as  pure, 
as  benevolent,  as  virtuous,  and  pious  as  yours  has 
nothing  to  fear  but  everything  to  hope  from  the 
last  of  human  evils." 

At  that  troubled  time  Mrs.  Adams's  "  fortitude  " 
was  tried  by  privation  as  well  as  danger.  There 
were  many  hardships  to  be  endured  from  having 
the  British  in  possession  of  Boston.  She  and  her 
"  dear  babes  "  were  forced  to  live  in  a  most  frugal 
way.  Once  they  were  four  months  without  flour. 
And  in  one  of  her  letters  she  writes :  "  We  shall 
very  soon  have  no  coffee  nor  sugar  nor  pepper." 
Her  cry  for  pins  is  pathetic.  "Not  a  pin  to  be 
purchased  for  love  or  money,"  she  exclaims.  "  I 
wish  you  would  convey  me  a  thousand  by  any 
friend  travelling  this  way.  It  is  very  provoking 
to  have  a  plenty  so  near  us  but,  Tantalus-like,  not 
to  be  able  to  touch."  "  Pray  don't  forget  my 
pins  "  becomes  a  constantly  recurring  injunction. 
Nor  Avas  this  earnest  prayer  for  pins  allowed  to  go 
unanswered,  for  a  gallant  Philadelphia  gentle- 
man to  whom  it  was  permitted  to  read  certain 
parts  of  John  Adams's  letters  from  "  Portia  "  was 
so  moved  by  the  petition  contained  in  them  that 


188   COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

he  sent  a  "  large  bundle,"  says  John  Adams,  "  packed 
up  with  two  great  heaps  of  pins  with  a  very  polite 
card  requesting  Portia's  acceptance  of  them." 

However,  Mrs.  Adams  was  not  always  so  fortu- 
nate as  in  this  circumstance  of  the  pins.  And 
when,  later  on,  she  had  occasion  to  long  for  some 
tea  to  cure  "  a  nervous  pain  "  in  her  head,  she  met 
with  a  sad  disappointment.  The  story  of  the  tea 
is  an  amusing  one  and  brings  John  Adams,  his 
"  Portia,"  and  the  canister  of  green  tea  very  vividly 
before  us.  It  happened  that  some  time  after  Mrs. 
Adams  had  expressed  her  wish  for  the  "  herbs  " 
she  went  to  "  visit "  her  cousin  and  "  sister  dele- 
gate," as  she  called  Mrs.  Samuel  Adams.  "She 
entertained  me,"  writes  Mrs.  John  to  her  husband, 
"  with  a  very  fine  dish  of  green  tea.  The  scarcity 
of  the  article  made  me  ask  where  she  got  it.  She 
replied  that  her  sweetheart  sent  it  to  her  by  Mr. 
Gerry.  I  said  nothing,  but  thought  my  sweetheart 
might  have  been  equally  kind  considering  the 
disease  I  was  visited  with,  and  that  was  recom- 
mended as  a  bracer." 

It  did  seem  rather  unfeeling  of  "my  sweetheart  " 
to  forget  his  poor  wife's  headache  and  we  do  not 
blame  her  for  that  silent  reproach.  But  in  reality 
"  Goodman  "  John  had  not  been  so  unfeeling  as  he 
appeared.  For  when  he  read  his  wife's  mention 
of  that  pain  in  her  head  he  had  been  properly 
concerned  and  straightway,  he  says,  "asked  Mrs. 
Yard  to  send  a  pound  of  green  tea  to  you  by  Mr. 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  189 

Gerry.  Mrs.  Yard  readily  agreed.  When  I  came 
home  at  night,"  continues  the  much  "  vexed " 
John,  "  I  was  told  Mr.  Gerry  was  gone.  I  asked 
Mrs.  Yard  if  she  had  sent  the  canister.  She  said 
yes  and  that  Mr.  Gerry  undertook  to  deliver  it 
with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure.  From  that  time  I 
nattered  myself  you  would  have  the  poor  relief  of 
a  dish  of  good  tea,  and  I  never  conceived  a  single 
douht  that  you  had  received  it  until  Mr.  Gerry's 
return.  I  asked  him  accidently  whether  he  had 
delivered  it,  and  he  said,  4  Yes ;  to  Mr.  Samuel 
Adams's  lady.' " 

We  really  cannot  blame  honest  John  for  being 
somewhat  "vexed,"  considering  that  tea  was  so 
"  amazingly  dear,  nothing  less  than  forty  shillings, 
lawful  money,  a  pound."  However,  his  vexation 
did  not  prevent  his  sending  a  second  canister  of 
tea,  with  very  careful  instructions  this  time  as  to 
which  Mrs.  Adams  was  to  receive  it.  So  at  last 
Mi's.  John  had  her  "  dish  of  green  tea."  With  this 
the  story  ends  and  we  are  left  to  surmise  that  the 
lady's  headache  was  cured  and  that,  in  the  days 
when  tea  became  more  plentiful,  she  and  her  "  sweet- 
heart "  were  able  to  laugh  over  that  other  canister 
which  Mrs.  Sam  enjoyed. 

In  those  Revolutionary  times  tea  leaves  were  not 
the  only  things  that  went  astray.  Letters  were 
continually  miscarrying.  Much  of  the  correspond- 
ence was  captured  by  the  Tories  and  ridiculed  in 
their  papers.     Consequently,  one  had  to  be  partic- 


190   COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

ular  in  selecting  one's  letter-carriers,  and  we  find 
John  Adams  sending  to  his  wife  by  Dr.  Franklin, 
Revere,  and  the  "  brave  and  amiable  George  Wash- 
ington." When  the  latter  gentleman  arrived  with 
the  post,  Mrs.  Adams  was  for  once  as  interested  in 
the  messenger  as  in  her  letter  and  writes  enthusi- 
astically of  him  to  her  husband  —  "I  was  struck 
with  General  Washington.  You  had  prepared  me 
to  entertain  a  favorable  opinion  of  him  but  I 
thought  the  half  was  not  told  me.  Dignity  with 
ease  and  complacency,  the  gentleman  and  the 
soldier  look  agreeably  blended  in  him.  Modesty 
marks  every  line  and  feature  of  his  face."  With 
a  few  strokes  of  her  pen  she  has  brought  George 
Washington  very  clearly  before  us.  There  are 
many  such  good  portraits  in  her  pages. 

During  the  first  days  of  the  Revolution  Mrs. 
Adams's  letters  are  taken  up  chiefly  with  mention 
of  public  men  and  public  events,  for,  like  her 
husband,  she  made  her  country  her  first  interest 
and  care.  But  when  the  war  passed  out  of  her 
territory  and  she  ceased  to  be  an  eye  witness  of  the 
struggle,  her  letters  become  more  private  in  char- 
acter and  have  to  do  principally  with  her  house, 
her  farm,  her  family,  and  her  thoughts.  Her  cor- 
respondence does  not,  however,  lose  in  charm  be- 
cause of  its  change  in  subject.  There  is  as  much 
cause  to  admire  Mrs.  Adams  now  as  formerly. 
Under  her  guidance  we  see  the  wheels  of  domestic 
empire  running  smoothly.    Indeed,  her  "  prudence  " 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  191 

and  "frugality"  during  her  husband's  long  term 
of  service  to  his  country  saved  him  from  ending 
his  days,  as  did  some  others  of  our  greatest  Ameri- 
cans, in  mortification  and  want. 

Abigail  Adams's  friends  knew  what  a  "good 
manager "  she  was.  Gen.  James  Warren  took 
pleasure  in  writing  to  John  Adams  at  Philadelphia 
that  he  had  called  upon  Mrs.  Adams  on  his  way  to 
Watertown  and  never  saw  the  farm  looking:  better. 
"  Mrs.  Adams  is  likely  to  outshine  all  the  farmers," 
he  said. 

Mr.  Adams,  repeating  the  compliment  in  a  letter 
to  his  wife,  adds  fondly,  "  He  knows  the  weakness 
of  his  friend's  heart  and  that  nothing  flatters  it 
more  than  praises  bestowed  on  a  certain  lady." 
Then  the  "  certain  lady  "  makes  answer,  "  I  hope 
in  time  to  have  the  reputation  of  being  as  good  a 
farmeress  as  my  partner  has  of  being  a  good  states- 
man." And  her  partner,  taking  up  the  ball,  tosses 
it  back  again.  "  Your  reputation  as  a  farmer  or 
anything  else  you  undertake  I  dare  answer  for," 
he  says.  "  Your  partner's  character  as  a  statesman 
is  much  more  problematic."  John  Adams  and  his 
wife  in  the  course  of  their  married  life  said  many 
nice  things  of  each  other. 

It  was  a  high  compliment  to  his  wife's  intelli- 
gence that  John  Adams  discussed  with  her  the 
weighty  affairs  and  knotty  problems  with  which  he 
was  concerned  as  frankly  and  seriously  as  if  she 
had  been  one  of  his  fellow  congressmen.     He  knew 


192    COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

her  understanding  in  such  matters.  In  one  of  his 
letters,  comparing  her  and  Mrs.  Hancock,  he  says, 
"  She  (Mrs.  Hancock)  avoids  talking  upon  politics. 
In  large  and  mixed  companies  she  is  totally  silent 
as  a  lady  ought  to  be.  But  whether  her  eyes  are 
so  penetrating  and  her  attention  so  quick  to  the 
words,  looks,  gestures,  sentiments,  etc.,  of  the  com- 
pany as  yours  would  be,  saucy  as  you  are  this  way, 
I  won't  say."  In  another  letter  he  goes  so  far  as  to 
tell  his  wife  that  he  thinks  she  "  shines  as  a  states- 
woman."  And  when  she  informs  him  that  she  has 
been  chosen  "  one  of  a  committee  of  three  ladies  to 
examine  the  Tory  ladies  "  he  is  quite  delighted  and 
hails  her  as  "  politician  "  and  "  judgess." 

One  cannot  but  take  a  sly  sort  of  pleasure  at  the 
way  in  which  Mrs.  Adams  approaches  her  husband 
with  the  now  hackneyed  but  then  quite  fresh  sub- 
ject of  "  Woman's  Rights."  "  I  long  to  hear  that 
you  have  declared  an  independency,"  she  writes 
her  constructive  statesman.  "  And,  by  the  way,  in 
the  new  code  of  laws  which  I  suppose  it  will  be 
necessary  for  you  to  make,  I  desire  you  would  re- 
member the  ladies  and  be  more  generous  and  favor- 
able to  them  than  your  ancestors.  Do  not  put  such 
unlimited  power  into  the  hands  of  the  husbands. 
Remember,  all  men  would  be  tyrants  if  they  could. 
If  particular  care  and  attention  is  not  paid  to  the 
ladies  we  are  determined  to  foment  a  rebellion  and 
will  not  hold  ourselves  bound  by  any  laws  in  which 
we  have  no  voice  or  representation." 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS,  193 

Mr.  Adams  answers  her  appeal  with  a  jest: 
"  As  to  your  extraordinary  code  of  laws,  I  cannot 
but  laugh.  We  have  been  told  that  our  struggle 
has  loosened  the  bonds  of  government  everywhere, 
that  children  and  apprentices  are  disobedient,  that 
schools  and  colleges  are  grown  turbulent,  that  In- 
dians slighted  their  guardians,  and  negroes  grew 
insolent  to  their  masters.  But  your  letter  w7as  the 
first  intimation  that  another  tribe,  more  numerous 
and  powerful  than  all  the  rest,  were  grown  discon- 
tented. This  is  rather  too  coarse  a  compliment, 
but  you  are  so  saucy  I  won't  blot  it  out.  Depend 
upon  it,  we  know  better  than  to  repeal  our  mascu- 
line system.  Although  they  are  in  full  force,  you 
know  they  are  little  more  than  theory,  and  in  prac- 
tice we  are  the  subjects.  We  have  only  the  name 
of  masters,  and  rather  than  give  up  this,  which 
would  completely  subject  us  to  the  despotism  of 
the  petticoat,  I  hope  General  Washington  and  all 
our  brave  heroes  would  fight." 

But  although  John  Adams  treated  Mrs.  Abigail's 
plea  for  her  sex  in  this  humorous  fashion,  he  put  a 
high  estimate  on  feminine  powers.  In  a  conversa- 
tion with  his  friend  James  Warren,  after  admitting 
how  inevitable  is  the  influence  of  women  on  poli- 
tics, he  said  : 

"  If  I  were  of  the  opinion  that  it  was  best  for  a 
general  rule  that  the  fair  sex  should  be  excused 
from  the  arduous  cares  of  War  and  State,  I  should 
certainly  think  that  Marcia    [Mi's.   Warren]    and 


194   COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

Portia  ought  to  be  exceptions,  because  I  have  ever 
ascribed  to  these  ladies  a  share  —  and  no  small  one 
neither  —  in  the  conduct  of  our  American  affairs." 
"  Portia "  pretended  to  be  quite  well  aware  of 
these  "  feminine  powers  "  which  her  husband  ac- 
knowledged, and  ends  her  dispute  with  him  over 
the  "  New  Code  "  with  this  laughing  rejoinder  : 
"  Notwithstanding  all  your  wise  laws  and  maxims, 
we  have  it  in  our  power  not  only  to  free  ourselves 
but  to  subdue  our  masters,  and,  without  violence, 
throw  both  your  natural  and  legal  authority  at  our 
feet,  — 

"  '  Charm  by  accepting,  by  submitting  sway, 
Yet  have  our  humor  most  when  we  obey.'  " 

When,  however,  a  little  later,  the  moment  of  the 
"  Declaration  "  arrived,  she  forgot  her  desire  for 
the  independence  of  her  sex  in  her  gladness  over 
the  independence  of  her  country.  Of  that  memor- 
able July  day  when  the  Declaration  was  made,  John 
Adams  wrote  to  his  wife,  "  It  ought  to  be  com- 
memorated as  a  day  of  deliverance  by  solemn  acts 
of  devotion  to  God  Almighty.  It  ought  to  be  sol- 
emnized with  pomp  and  parade,  with  show,  games, 
sports,  guns,  bells,  bonfires,  and  illuminations  from 
one  end  of  the  continent  to  the  other,  from  this 
time  forward  forevermore.  You  will  think  me 
transported  with  enthusiasm,  but  I  am  not.  I  am 
well  aware  of  the  toil  and  blood  and  treasures  that 
it  will  cost  us  to   maintain  this   Declaration,  and 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  195 

support  and  defend  the  States.  Yet  through  all 
the  gloom  I  can  see  the  rays  of  ravishing  light  and 
glory.  I  can  see  that  the  end  is  more  than  worth 
all  the  means.  And  that  posterity  will  triumph  in 
that  day's  transaction,  even  although  we  shall  rue 
it,  which  I  trust  in  God  we  shall  not." 

In  a  spirit  that  harmonized  with  her  husband's 
expression  of  exalted  patriotism,  Mrs.  Adams  an- 
swered him :  "  By  yesterday's  post  I  received  two 
letters  dated  3rd  and  4th  of  July,  and  though  your 
letters  never  fail  to  give  me  pleasure,  let  the  sub- 
ject be  what  it  will,  yet  it  was  greatly  heightened 
by  the  prospect  of  the  future  happiness  and  glory 
of  our  country.  Nor  am  I  a  little  gratified  when  I 
reflect  that  a  person  so  nearly  connected  with  me 
has  had  the  honor  of  being  a  principal  actor  in 
laying  the  foundations  of  its  future  greatness. 
May  the  foundation  of  our  new  Constitution  be 
Justice,  Truth,  Righteousness  !  Like  the  wise 
man's  house  may  it  be  founded  upon  these  rocks 
and  then  neither  storms  nor  tempests  can  over- 
throw it." 

When  the  time  came  for  the  Declaration  to  be 
proclaimed  in  Boston  Mrs.  Adams  went  "  with 
the  multitude  into  King  street "  to  hear  the  read- 
ing of  the  proclamation  and  to  take  part  in  the 
mutual  congratulations  which  followed,  amid  the 
ringing  of  bells,  firing  from  privateers,  forts,  and 
batteries,  the  booming  of  cannon,  "  cheers  which 
rent  the  air,"  and  the  glad  cry  of  "  God  save  our 


196    COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

American  States."  "Every  face  was  joyful,"  she 
writes,  and  we  may  be  sure  no  face  in  all  that  en- 
thusiastic multitude  expressed  greater  happiness 
than  her  own. 

It  was  during  this  memorable  summer  of  '76, 
after  the  Declaration  had  fired  all  patriotic  souls, 
great  and  small,  with  a  zeal  to  serve  their  country, 
that  Mrs.  Adams's  eldest  son  entered  upon  his  first 
public  office  —  that  of  post-rider  between  Boston 
and  Braintree.  Probably  Master  John,  at  that 
time  a  little  fellow  of  nine  years,  felt  fully  his  own 
importance  mounting  his  horse,  riding  under 
danger  of  capture  the  eleven  miles  to  Boston  and 
the  eleven  miles  home,  bringing  his  mamma  all  the 
latest  news  and  carrying  in  his  pocket  the  welcome 
letter  from  Philadelphia. 

Mrs.  Adams  has  not  failed  to  leave  us  a  picture 
of  the  young  post-rider.  "I  sent  Johnny  last 
evening  to  the  post-office  for  letters,"  she  writes. 
"  He  soon  returned  and  pulling  one  from  his  gown 
gave  it  me.  The  young  rogue,  smiling  and  watch- 
ing mamma's  countenance,  draws  another  and  then 
another,  highly  gratified  to  think  he  has  so  many 
presents  to  bestow." 

"Johnny,"  the  post-rider,  and  his  sister  and 
brothers  were,  like  their  parents,  brave  and  loyal 
patriots.  "  John  writes  like  a  hero  glowing  with 
ardor  for  his  country  and  burning  with  indignation 
against  his  enemies,"  says  his  proud  father. 
"  Charles'  young  heroism  charms  me  ;  kiss  him." 


:  *#i 


-rip 


■• 


ABIGAIL   ADAMS.  197 

The  statesman  father's  thoughts  are  continually 
travelling  to  his  "  babes  "  at  home.  He  tells  of 
how  he  walked  the  city  streets  "  twenty  times  and 
gaped  at  all  the  store  windows  like  a  countryman," 
in  order  to  find  presents  suitable  to  send  to  his 
"  pretty  little  flock."  His  letters  to  his  wife  con- 
tain many  grave  injunctions  about  the  children. 
"  Take  care  that  they  don't  go  astray,"  he  says. 
"  Cultivate  their  minds,  inspire  their  little  hearts, 
raise  their  wishes.  Fix  their  attention  upon  great 
and  glorious  objects.  Root  out  every  little  thing, 
weed  out  every  meanness.  Let  them  revere  noth- 
ing but  religion,  morality,  and  liberty." 

And  their  mother  answers,  "  Our  little  ones, 
whom  you  so  often  recommend  to  my  care  and  in- 
struction, shall  not  be  deficient  in  virtue  or  probity 
if  the  precepts  of  a  mother  have  their  desired 
effect ;  but  they  would  be  doubly  enforced  could 
they  be  indulged  with  the  example  of  a  father 
alternately  before  them.  I  often  point  them  to 
their  sire  — 

u  4 .     .     .     engaged  in  a  corrupted  state 
Wrestling  with  vice  and  faction.'  " 

Mrs.  Adams's  influence  on  her  children  was 
strong,  inspiring,  vital.  Something  of  the  Spartan 
mother's  spirit  breathed  in  her.  She  taught  her 
sons  and  daughter  to  be  brave  and  patient,  in  spite 
of  danger  and  privation.  She  made  them  feel  no 
terror  at  the  thought  of  death  or  hardships  suffered 


198   COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

for  one's  country.  She  read  and  talked  to  them  of 
the  world's  history.  We  find  that  "  Master  John  " 
read  Rollins'  Ancient  History  aloud  to  his  mother 
when  he  was  only  seven  years  old.  And  every 
night,  when  the  Lord's  prayer  had  been  repeated, 
she  heard  him  say  that  ode  of  Collins  beginning, 

u  How  sleep  the  brave  who  sink  to  rest 
By  all  their  country's  wishes  blest." 

The  Adams  children  grew  up  under  firm  disci- 
pline and  vigorous  training,  and  a  strength  of  char- 
acter was  established  that  has  lasted  through  suc- 
ceeding generations.  While  the  descendants  of 
other  great  Americans  are  now  comparatively  un- 
known, the  Adams  lineage  still  remains,  by  com- 
mon consent,  the  most  remarkable  family  in  our 
country. 

Yet  tenderness  as  well  as  firmness  showed  in 
Mrs.  Adams's  love  for  her  "little  ones."  She 
dwells  sadly  and  fondly  on  the  picture  of  Tommy, 
the  youngest,  sick  with  the  pestilence.  "  From  a 
hearty,  hale,  corn-fed  boy  he  has  become  pale,  lean 
and  wan,"  she  says.  "He  is  unwilling  any  but 
mamma  should  do  for  him." 

Upon  the  education  of  her  children  Mrs.  Adams 
spent  much  thought  and  energy.  But  her  efforts 
to  teach  them  made  her  feel  more  keenly  than  ever 
her  own  deficiencies  in  book  learning.  Writing  to 
her  husband,  she  says,  "  If  you  complain  of  neglect 
of  education  in  sons  what  shall  I  say  of  daughters 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  199 

who  every  day  experience  the  want  of  it.  With 
regard  to  the  education  of  my  own  children  I  feel 
myself  soon  out  of  my  depth,  destitute  in  every 
part  of  education.  I  most  sincerely  wish  that 
some  more  liberal  plan  might  be  laid  and  executed 
for  the  benefit  of  the  rising  generation  and  that 
our  new  Constitution  may  be  distinguished  for 
encouraging  learning  and  virtue.  If  we  mean  to 
have  heroes,  statesmen,  and  philosophers,  we  should 
have  learned  women.  The  world  perhaps  would 
laugh  at  me,  but  you,  I  know,  have  a  mind  too 
enlarged  and  liberal  to  disregard  sentiment.  If  as 
much  depends  as  is  allowed  upon  the  early  educa- 
tion of  youth  and  the  first  principles  which  are 
instilled  take  the  deepest  root  great  benefit  must 
arise  from  the  literary  accomplishments  in  women." 

John  Adams,  on  his  part,  laments  that  he  is  not 
more  learned.  He  especially  regrets  his  ignorance 
of  the  French  language.  "  I  wish  I  understood 
French  as  well  as  you  do,"  he  writes  his  wife.  He 
urges  her  to  teach  it  to  her  children,  for  he  sees 
more  and  more,  he  says,  that  it  will  become  a 
necessary  accomplishment  of  an  American  gentle- 
man or  lady.  And  he  ends  in  his  characteristically 
honest  way  —  John  Adams's  word  always  meant  a 
corresponding  deed  —  by  asking  for  "  your  thin 
French  grammar  which  gives  you  the  pronuncia- 
tion of  the  French  words  in  English  letters." 

This  realization  of  their  own  deficiencies  made 
John  and  Abigail  Adams   most  serious,  conscien- 


200  'COLONIAL   DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

tious,  and  persevering  in  the  pursuit  of  learning 
for  themselves,  their  children,  and  coming  genera- 
tions. They  were  among  the  first  Americans  to 
talk  of  a  "  Higher  Education." 

It  is  remarkable  to  see  upon  how  many  of  the 
great  questions  of  that  day  and  of  later  days  Mrs. 
Adams  has  spoken.  She  is  always  logical  and 
forcible.  Of  slavery  she  said:  "I  wish  most  sin- 
cerely that  there  was  not  a  slave  in  the  province. 
It  always  appeared  a  most  iniquitous  scheme  to 
me  —  to  fight  ourselves  for  what  we  are  daily  rob- 
bing and  plundering  from  those  who  have  as  good 
a  right  to  freedom  as  we  have." 

And  while  she  was  interesting  herself  in  all  the 
problems  that  were  arising  in  the  new  nation  and 
discussing  them  freely  in  her  correspondence  with 
her  husband,  she  was  longing  ardently  for  the  time 
when  he  and  she  might  be  permitted  to  live  together 
once  more.  "  I  wish  for  peace  and  tranquillity," 
she  wrote  him.  "  All  my  desire  and  all  my  ambi- 
tion is  to  be  esteemed  and  loved  by  my  partner,  to 
join  with  him  in  the  education  and  instruction  of 
our  little  ones,  to  sit  under  our  own  vines  in  peace, 
liberty,  and  safety." 

John  Adams  was  as  desirous  as  she  for  the  "  peace, 
liberty,  and  safety  "  that  would  make  it  possible  for 
him  to  retire  from  public  life  and  enter  into  the 
enjoyments  of  "  domestic  and  rural  felicity."  "  The 
moment  our  affairs  are  in  a  more  prosperous  way," 
he  informs  her,   "  and  a  little  more  out  of  doubt, 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  201 

that  moment  I  become  a  private  gentleman,  the  re- 
spectful husband  of  the  amiable  Mrs.  Adams  of 
Braintree,  and  the  affectionate  father  of  her  chil- 
dren, two  characters  which  I  have  scarcely  supported 
for  these  three  years  past,  having  done  the  duties 
of  neither."  He  describes  himself  as  "  a  lonely, 
forlorn  creature  "  whose  yearnings  for  his  wife  and 
children  are  known  only  to  "  God  and  my  own 
soul."  His  chief  pleasure,  he  says,  is  in  writing 
to  her  and  receiving  her  "  charming  letters."  Yet 
letters  are  but  a  poor  sort  of  substitute  for  her  so- 
ciety. "  I  want  to  hear  you  think,  and  to  see  your 
thoughts,"  he  tells  her.  He  tries  to  persuade  her 
to  come  and  join  him  in  Philadelphia.  "  If  you 
will  come,"  he  says,  "  I  shall  be  as  proud  and  happy 
as  a  bridegroom." 

His  practical  wife,  however,  will  not  let  herself 
be  tempted  by  his  "invitation."  She  expresses 
loving  concern  lest  his  "  clothes  should  go  to  rags, 
having  nobody  to  take  care  of  you  on  your  long 
journey,"  and  she  "cannot  avoid  repining  that  the 
gifts  of  fortune  were  not  bestowed  upon  us  so  that 
I  might  have  enjoyed  the  happiness  of  spending 
my  days  with  my  partner.  But  as  it  is,"  she  con- 
cludes in  that  spirit  of  brave  cheerfulness  that  was 
hers  in  little  as  well  as  big  things,  "  I  think  it  my 
duty  to  attend  with  frugality  and  economy  to  our 
own  private  affairs ;  and  if  I  cannot  add  to  our 
little  substance,  yet  see  that  it  is  not  diminished. 
I  should  enjoy  but  little  comfort  in  a  state  of  idle- 


202   COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

ness  and  uselessness.  Here  I  can  serve  my  partner, 
my  family,  and  myself,  and  enjoy  the  satisfaction 
of  your  serving  your  country."  Occasionally  she 
has  courage  enough  even  to  joke  over  their  separa- 
tion. "  My  uncle  Quincy  inquired  when  you  were 
coming  home,"  she  writes.  "  He  says  if  you  don't 
come  soon  he  would  advise  me  to  procure  another 
husband."  But  for  the  most  part  she  is  silent 
about  it  or  is  forced  to  let  "  a  sigh  escape." 

In  one  of  her  escaping  sighs  Mrs.  Adams  says : 
"  It  is  almost  thirteen  years  since  we  were  united, 
but  not  more  than  half  that  time  have  we  had  the 
happiness  of  living  together.  I  consider  it  a  sacri- 
fice to  my  country."  Yet  this  "  sacrifice  "  was 
small  in  comparison  with  one  which  she  was  soon 
to  make.  During  those  thirteen  years  the  distance 
between  her  husband  and  herself  had  not  been  very 
great,  and  their  means  of  communication  had  been 
reasonably  quick  and  sure.  But  in  November  of 
the  year  1777  Mr.  Adams  received  a  commission 
which  sent  him  to  a  foreign  shore  "  over  seas  cov- 
ered with  the  enemy's  ships."  Some  words  of  Mrs. 
Adams  spoken  at  an  earlier  period  read  like  a 
prophecy  for  this  time  of  fresh  parting.  "  I  very 
well  remember,"  she  says,  "  when  the  eastern  cir- 
cuits of  the  courts  which  lasted  a  month  were 
thought  an  age,  and  an  absence  of  three  months 
intolerable;  but  we  are  carried  from  step  to  step, 
and  from  one  degree  to  another,  to  endure  that 
which    first    we    think    insupportable."      It    was 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  203 

in  exact  accordance  with  this  statement  that  Mrs. 
Adams  was  forced  at  last  to  see  the  distance  from 
Boston  to  Philadelphia  extend  to  France,  England, 
and  Holland  and  the  separation  of  months  become 
one  of  years. 

Mr.  Adams  set  out  in  his  new  capacity,  that  of 
joint  commissioner  with  Dr.  Franklin  at  the  court 
of  France,  in  the  spring  of  1778.  He  took  with 
him  his  eldest  son,  John  Quincy.  Never  before 
in  all  her  experience  did  Mrs.  Adams  undergo  so 
severe  a  trial  as  at  this  time.  Vessels  carrying 
letters  were  seized  by  the  enemy.  For  months  she 
received  no  word  of  her  voyagers.  The  false  re- 
port that  Dr.  Franklin  had  been  assassinated 
reached  her  ears,  and  made  her  fear  the  same  fate 
for  the  other  commissioner.  So  she  lived  in  a  state 
of  the  utmost  anxiety,  dreading  shipwreck  or  cap- 
ture, and  haunted  by  the  "  horrid  idea  of  assassina- 
tion." But  at  last  came  the  welcome  news  that 
"  Johnny"  and  his  father  were  safe  in  France,  that 
"great  garden,"  as  her  husband  called  it. 

John  Adams  writes  to  his  wife  of  the  "  innumer- 
able delights  "  of  that  sunny  land,  but  assures  her 
he  would  not  exchange  "  all  the  magnificence  of 
Europe  for  the  simplicity  of  Braintree  and  Wey- 
mouth. To  tell  you  the  truth,"  he  adds  rather 
slyly,  "  I  admire  the  ladies  here.  Don't  be  jealous. 
They  are  handsome  and  very  well  educated.  My 
venerable  colleague  (Dr.  Franklin)  enjoys  a  privi- 
lege here  that  is  much  to  be  envied.     Being  seventy 


204    COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

years  of  age,  the  ladies  not  only  allow  him  to  em- 
brace them  as  often  as  he  pleases,  but  they  are  per- 
petually embracing  him." 

Mrs.  Adams  was  not  made  at  all  "  jealous  "  by 
this  flattering  account  of  the  French  ladies.  She 
confesses,  however,  that  she  would  not  care  to 
have  her  husband's  experiences  with  them  "  similar 
to  those  related  of  your  venerable  colleague  whose 
mentor-like  appearance,  age,  and  philosophy  must 
certainly  lead  the  politico-scientific  ladies  of  France 
to  suppose  they  are  embracing  the  god  of  wis- 
dom in  a  human  form;  but  I  who  own  that  I 
never  yet  '  wished  an  angel  whom  I  loved  a  man ' 
shall  be  full  as  content  if  those  divine  honors  are 
omitted." 

Yet  while  Mrs.  Adams  was  joking  with  her  hus- 
band about  his  admiration  for  the  French  ladies, 
she  was  finding  "  the  idea  that  three  thousand 
miles  and  a  vast  ocean  divide  us  insupportable." 
She  was  paying  dearly  for  her  "  titled  husband." 
Six  years,  with  the  exception  of  a  brief  visit  from 
him  and  her  son  in  the  summer  of  '79,  she  lived 
without  the  companionship  of  either.  For  Mr. 
Adams,  whose  diplomatic  ability  had  been  recog- 
nized by  Congress,  was  employed  by  that  body 
upon  various  commissions  among  the  European 
powers,  and  during  his  long  stay  abroad  he  kept 
"  Johnny  "  with  him,  that  his  son  might  enjoy  the 
advantages  of  journey  and  foreign  study. 

Mrs.    Adams    did   not    hear   very   regularly    or 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  205 

particularly  from  her  travellers.  A  large  propor- 
tion of  the  letters  which  they  wrote  to  her  never 
reached  their  destination.  Many  were  lost  at  sea 
or,  for  fear  of  capture,  were  destroyed  by  those 
carrying  them.  Mrs.  Adams  had  to  complain  con- 
stantly of  the  "avidity  of  the  sea  god,"  who  cruelly 
destro}^ed  her  letters  and  had  not  "  complacence 
enough  to  forward  them  "  to  her.  Moreover,  the 
letters  which  did  arrive  were  generally  short  and 
unsatisfactory.  John  Adams  declared  that  there 
were  spies  upon  every  word  he  uttered  and  upon 
every  syllable  he  wrote.  Not  even  to  his  wife 
could  he  write  freely  or  so  affectionately  as  form- 
erly. The  British  might  get  hold  of  their  letters 
and  then,  he  reflected,  what  ridiculous  figures  she 
and  he  would  make  "  in  a  newspaper,  to  be  read  by 
the  whole  world  "  ! 

Since  such  was  the  condition  of  affairs,  we  can- 
not wonder  that  Mrs.  Adams  felt  she  had  "  re- 
signed "  a  great  deal  for  her  country,  that  she 
could  not  refrain  from  considering-  the  "  honors  " 

o 

with  which  her  husband  was  "  invested  "  as  "  badges 
of  her  unhappiness,"  and  that  she  sometimes  wished 
for  that  u  dear  untitled  man  to  whom  she  gave  her 
heart."  Still  above  all  her  moods  of  longing,  lone- 
liness, and  sadness,  her  patriotism  rose  supreme. 
"  Difficult  as  the  day  is,"  she  bravely  declared, 
"  cruel  as  this  war  has  been,  separated  as  I  am,  on 
account  of  it,  from  the  dearest  connection  in  life,  I 
would  not  exchange  my  country  for  the  wealth  of 


206    COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

the  Indies  nor  be  any  other  than  an  American 
though  I  might  be  queen  or  empress  of  any  nation 
on  the  globe." 

During  this  period  she  lived,  as  she  expressed  it, 
"like  a  nun  in  a  cloister"  and  often  "smiled  to 
think  she  had  the  honor  of  being  allied  to  an  am- 
bassador." Yet  never  does  she  appear  more  able, 
energetic,  and  versatile  than  at  this  time  of  quiet, 
country  life.  We  see  her  as  a  farmer  discussing 
her  crops,  as  a  merchant  talking  of  values  and 
prices,  and  as  a  politician  considering  her  country's 
outlook.  But  above  all  she  is  a  devoted  wife  and 
mother,  sympathizing  in  all  things  with  her  hus- 
band, and  sending  her  boy  letters  of  advice  and 
warning,  somewhat  didactic,  perhaps,  according  to 
our  modern  notions,  but  full  of  affection  and  ten- 
derness. She  is  ardently  interested  in  everything 
and  puts  it  all  into  her  delightful  letters.  Her 
husband  reads  these  letters  with  pride  and  tells 
her  "  they  may  some  day  occasion  your  name  to  be 
classed  with  Mrs.  Macaulay  and  Madame  Dacier." 

The  time,  however,  was  approaching  when  it 
would  be  necessary  no  longer  for  John  Adams  and 
his  wife  to  talk  by  letter.  For,  as  it  became  evi- 
dent to  Mr.  Adams  that  his  stay  in  Europe  must 
be  lengthened  out  indefinitely,  he  felt  justified  in 
asking  his  wife  to  join  him  abroad.  He  was  home- 
sick for  his  "  housekeeper ; "  he  wanted  to  enjoy 
her  "  conversation  ;  "  even  at  the  tables  of  dukes 
and  ambassadors  he  was  wishing  that,  instead,  he 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  207 

might  be  at  home  dining  with  Portia  on  msticoat 
potatoes.  It  was  with  such,  pleadings  that  he 
courted  her  to  come  to  him.  Still,  she  hesitated 
about  accepting  his  "  invitation."  She  felt  very 
humble  at  the  thought  of  appearing  in  a  public 
character,  the  wife  of  an  ambassador.  "  A  mere 
American  as  I  am,"  she  wrote,  "unacquainted 
with  the  etiquette  of  courts,  taught  to  say  the 
thing  I  mean,  and  to  wear  my  heart  on  my  counte- 
nance, I  am  sure  I  should  make  an  awkward  fig- 
ure ;  and  then  it  would  mortify  my  pride,  if  I 
should  be  thought  to  disgrace  you."  But  finally 
her  longing  to  be  with  her  "  dearest  friend  "  over- 
came all  her  scruples  and  she  and  her  family  em- 
barked for  England  in  June  of  the  year  1784. 

Mr.  Adams  and  his  son  met  them  at  London, 
and  the  Adamses  were  once  more  united  and,  to 
quote  Mrs.  Adams's  own  words,  "a  very,  very 
happy  family."  The  thought  of  seeing  his  wife 
had  made  Mr.  Adams  "  twenty  years  younger,"  he 
said,  but  Mrs.  Adams  had  to  confess  that  she  felt 
extremely  "  matronly  "  between  her  "  grown-up 
son  and  daughter." 

The  surroundings  among  which  Mrs.  Adams 
now  found  herself  at  the  age  of  forty  were  very 
different  from  those  of  the  small  country  town  in 
which  she  had  always  lived.  She  was  obliged  to 
become  a  "  woman  of  fashion."  She  rode  in  a 
coach,  visited  royalty,  attended  pageants  and  pa- 
rades, went  to  ambassadors'  dinners,  and  gave  in 


208    COLONIAL   DAMES  ANT)  DAUGHTERS. 

return  dinners  to  which  many  great  personages 
came.  It  was  not  easy  to  adjust  herself  to  so  sud- 
den and  great  a  change.  But  Mrs.  Adams's  quick 
perception,  good  judgment,  and  sincere  manners 
kept  her  from  making  an  "awkward  figure,''  and 
her  enthusiastic  interest  in  the  world  made  her 
new  life  enjoyable. 

While  she  was  living  in  France,  Mrs.  Adams's 
pleasantest  social  relations  were  with  Thomas  Jef- 
ferson, Dr.  Franklin,  and  the  family  of  the  Marquis 
de  la  Fayette,  and  she  very  much  regretted  leaving 
these  friends  when  her  husband's  office  of  repre- 
sentative to  England  called  her  to  that  country. 

Mrs.  Adams's  position  at  the  court  of  England 
was  a  novel  and  difficult  one.  She  was  the  first 
woman  representative  from  America  and  she,  as  well 
as  her  husband,  was  made  to  feel  the  indignation  of 
their  former  sovereigns  against  the  rebels  who  had 
beaten  them.  She  has  left  an  entertaining  account 
of  her  formal  presentation  to  the  king  and  queen 
in  a  letter  to  one  of  her  sisters  at  home.  Her  court 
dress,  upon  this  occasion,  was  "  elegant,"  she  says, 
but  as  "  plain  "  as  possible,  for  she  was  determined 
(by  all  the  shades  of  her  Puritan  ancestors,  no 
doubt)  to  have  no  "  foil  or  tinsel "  about  her.  It 
was  of  white  lutestring,  festooned  with  lilac  ribbon 
and  mock  point  lace.  Ruffle  cuffs,  treble  lace  lap- 
pets, white  plumes,  pearl  pins,  earrings,  and  neck- 
lace completed  her  "  rigging,"  as  she  expressed  it. 
In  this  "  elegant  but  plain  "  costume  she  made  her 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  209 

first  appearance  at  court,  accompanied  by  her  hus- 
band, her  daughter  Abby,  and  a  certain  Colonel 
Smith,  secretary  to  the  American  legation,  the  man 
who  afterwards  became  Miss  Abby's  husband.  De- 
scribing their  entrance  into  the  queen's  drawing- 
room  and  their  reception  there,  Mrs.  Adams  writes  : 
"  We  passed  through  several  departments,  lined  as 
usual  with  spectators  upon  these  occasions.  Upon 
entering  the  antechamber,  the  Baron  de  Lynden, 
the  Dutch  minister,  came  and  spoke  with  me.  A 
Count  Sarsfield,  a  French  nobleman  with  whom  I 
am  acquainted,  paid  his  compliments.  As  I  passed 
into  the  drawing-room,  Lord  Carmarthen  and  Sir 
Clement  Dormer  were  presented  to  me.  The 
Swedish  and  the  Polish  minister  made  their  com- 
pliments, and  several  other  gentlemen  ;  but  not  a 
single  lady  did  I  know  until  the  Countess  of  Ef- 
fingham came,  who  was  very  civil.  There  were 
three  young  ladies,  daughters  of  the  Marquis  of 
Lothian,  to  be  presented  at  the  same  time,  and  two 
brides.  We  were  placed  in  a  circle  round  the 
drawing-room,  which  was  very  full,  I  believe  two 
hundred  persons  present.  Only  think  of  the  task ! 
The  royal  family  have  to  go  round  to  every  person 
and  find  small  talk  enough  to  speak  to  them  all, 
though  they  very  prudently  speak  in  a  whisper,  so 
that  only  the  person  who  stands  next  to  you  can 
hear  what  is  said.  Persons  are  not  placed  accord- 
ing to  their  rank  in  the  drawing-room,  but  promis- 
cuously;   and  when  the  king  comes    in  he  takes 


210    COLONIAL   DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

persons  as  they  stand.  When  he  came  to  me  Lord 
Onslow  said  4  Mrs.  Adams,'  upon  which  I  drew  off 
my  right  hand  glove,  and  his  majesty  saluted  my 
left  cheek  ;  then  asked  me  if  I  had  taken  a  walk 
to-day.  I  could  have  told  his  majesty  that  I  had 
been  all  the  morning  preparing  to  wait  upon  him ; 
but  I  replied :  '  No,  sire.'  '  Why,  don't  you  love 
walking?  '  says  he.  I  answered  that  I  was  rather 
indolent  in  that  respect.  He  then  bowed  and 
passed  on.  It  was  more  than  two  hours  after  this, 
before  it  came  to  my  turn  to  be  presented  to  the 
queen.  The  queen  was  evidently  embarrassed 
when  I  was  presented  to  her.  I  had  disagreeable 
feelings  too.  She,  however,  said  :  '  Mrs.  Adams, 
have  you  got  into  your  house  ?  Pray  how  do  you 
like  the  situation?'  while  the  princess  royal 
looked  compassionate,  and  asked  if  I  was  not  much 
fatigued,  and  observed  that  it  was  a  very  full 
drawing-room." 

We  can  imagine  with  what  eager  interest  such 
an  account  was  received  and  read  by  Mrs.  Adams's 
friends  at  home.  It  must  have  been  a  satisfaction 
to  these  simple  country  folk  to  learn  that  their  old 
friend  remained  unaffected  and  unchanged  amid 
such  scenes  of  rank  and  fashion  and  that,  when 
the  time  came,  she  was  glad  to  leave  it  all  and 
return  to  them.  "  Whatever  is  the  fate  of  our 
country,"  she  said  to  her  sister,  "  we  have  deter- 
mined to  come  home  and  share  it  with  you." 

The  home-coming  of  the  Adams  family  occurred 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  211 

at  the  same  time  with  the  adoption  of  the  present 
American  Constitution.  Under  the  new  code  of 
laws  Mrs.  Adams  found  herself  Madam  Vice-Presi- 
dent, and,  eight  years  later,  upon  Washington's 
retirement  from  public  life,  she  rose  to  the  position 
of  the  first  lady  in  the  land,  the  wife  of  President 
John  Adams. 

When  the  news  of  her  husband's  election  to  the 
highest  place  among  his  countrymen  came  to  Abi- 
gail Adams  she  was  at  Quincy  and  from  the  old 
home  she  writes  to  him,  in  a  spirit  of  humility  that 
exalts  her : 

"  Quincy,  Feb.  8,  1797. 

"  t  The  sun  is  dressed  in  brightest  beams 
To  give  thy  honors  to  the  day.' 

"  And  may  it  prove  an  auspicious  prelude  to  each 
ensuing  season.  You  have  this  day  to  declare 
yourself  head  of  a  nation.  '  And,  now,  O  Lord, 
my  God,  Thou  hast  made  thy  servant  ruler  over 
the  people.  Give  unto  him  an  understanding 
heart,  that  he  may  know  how  to  go  out  and  come 
in  before  this  great  people  ;  that  he  may  discern 
between  good  and  bad.  For  who  is  able  to  judge 
thy  so  great  people  ? '  were  the  words  of  a  royal 
sovereign ;  and  not  less  applicable  to  him  who 
is  invested  with  the  chief  magistracy  of  a  nation, 
though  he  wear  not  a  crown  nor  the  robes  of  roy- 
alty. My  thoughts  and  meditations  are  with  you, 
though    personally   absent ;    and   my   petitions    to 


212    COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

Heaven  are  that  the  things  which  make  for  peace 
may  not  be  hidden  from  your  eyes.  My  feelings  are 
not  those  of  pride  or  ostentation  upon  this  occasion. 
They  are  solemnized  by  a  sense  of  the  obligations, 
the  important  trusts,  and  numerous  duties  con- 
nected with  it.  That  you  may  be  enabled  to  dis- 
charge them  with  honor  to  yourself,  with  justice 
and  impartiality  to  your  country,  and  with  satis- 
faction to  this  great  people,  shall  be  the  daily 
prayer  of  your 

"A.  A." 

As  mistress  of  the  presidential  mansion  Mrs. 
Adams  was  admired  for  her  excellent  judgment, 
her  conversational  powers,  and  her  "  statesman- 
like "  mind,  while  her  genial  disposition  and  kind- 
ness of  heart  did  much  to  soften  the  party  spite 
and  enmity  which  arose  toward  the  close  of  her 
husband's  political  career.  And  when  the  tide  of 
popular  sentiment  turned  against  John  Adams  and 
he  was  left  a  maligned  and  defeated  man,  it  was 
his  wife's  cheerful,  buoyant  spirit  which  cheered 
him.  Amid  all  his  disappointments,  perplexities, 
and  bitterness  of  soul,  he  said  he  had  found  conso- 
lation in  her  perfect  understanding  of  him. 

For  eighteen  years  after  their  retirement  from 
public  life  John  Adams  and  his  wife  lived  to- 
gether in  the  farmhouse  at  Quincy,  as  that  part  of 
Brain  tree  which  had  always  been  their  home  came 
to  be  called.     And  once  more  Mrs.  Adams  was  to 


ABIGAIL  ADAMS.  213 

be  seen  in  her  dairy  skimming  milk,  and  the  old 
president  in  the  field  working  among  his  hay- 
makers. The  simple,  rural,  domestic  pleasures 
which  they  could  not  enjoy  together  in  their  earlier 
days  were  no  longer  denied  them.  From  the 
people  they  came  and  to  the  people  they  had 
returned. 

Mrs.  Adams  lived  to  see  all  her  sons  graduates 
of  Harvard  College  and  students  of  law  as  their 
father  had  been,  and  her  eldest  son  she  saw  raised 
to  the  honor  of  secretary  of  state.  She  lived  to 
welcome  many  frolicsome  little  grandchildren,  on 
Thanksgiving  days  and  merry  Christmases,  to  the 
jolly  farmhouse  beyond  the  "  President's  Bridge." 
She  lived  to  celebrate  her  golden  wedding  with 
that  "  dear  untitled  man  "  to  whom  she  had  given 
her  "  heart,"  the  farmer's  son  of  whom,  in  the  days 
before  the  Revolution,  her  father's  parishioners 
had  disapproved. 

To  the  end  she  kept  her  brave  and  cheerful 
nature.  "  I  am  a  mortal  enemy,"  she  used  to  de- 
clare, "  to  anything  but  a  cheerful  countenance  and 
a  merry  heart,  which  Solomon  tells  us  does  good 
like  medicine."  And  her  husband,  writing  to  his 
son  Thomas,  says  with  pleasure  of  Tom's  mother, 
"  A  fine  night's  sleep  has  made  her  as  gay  as  a 
girl." 

"  Gay,"  genial,  affectionate  Abigail  Adams ! 
She  never  grew  old.  One  likes  to  think  of  her  in 
those  golden-wedding  days,  young  and  strong  in 


214   COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

courage,  patriotism,  and  kindness,  living  in  the 
realization  of  her  youthful  dream,  "  esteemed  and 
loved  by  her  partner,  sitting  with  him  under  their 
own  vines  in  peace,  liberty,  and  safety." 


VIII. 

ELIZABETH   SCHUYLER,    OF   ALBANY, 

AFTERWARDS   WIFE   OF    ALEXANDER    HAMILTON. 


Born  in  Albany,  New  York,  August  9, 1757. 
Died  at  "Washington,  District  of  Columbia,  1854. 


"  A   charming   woman,    who   joined   to   all  the  graces,    the 
simplicity  of  an  American  wife."  —  Brissot  de  Warville. 

One  pleasant  October  afternoon  in  the  year 
1777  a  young  girl  was  standing  in  one  of  the  great 
windows  of  the  Schuyler  manor  house  at  Albany. 

She  was  looking  out  across  the  sloping  lawns, 
the  lilac  hedge,  and  over  the  chestnut  trees  to 
where,  along  the  western  skies,  the  craggy  hills  of 
the  Helderbergs  stood  out  sharp  and  clear,  and, 
farther  off,  along  the  southerly  horizon,  the  lofty 
peaks  of  the  Catskills  rose  against  the  blue. 

The  clatter  of  hoofs  rang  out  on  the  driveway 
below  her  and,  looking  down,  the  girl  saw  a  young 
officer  ride  out  from  the  grove  of  forest  trees  that 
shaded  the  lawn,  and  rein  up  his  spirited  horse 
before  the  doorway  of  her  father  's  house. 

The  bearing  and  appearance  of  the  young  man 
were   dignified   and  distinguished.     He  wore   the 

215 


216    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

green  ribbon  that  designated  the  uniform  of  Wash- 
ington's "military  family,"  or  staff,  and  rode  his 
horse  like  a  trooper;  but  his  three-cornered  hat 
was  drawn  almost  over  his  eyes,  as  though  he  were 
deep  in  thought. 

As  he  approached  the  house,  however,  he  lifted 
his  head,  pushed  back  his  hat  from  his  forehead, 
and  gave  the  handsome  residence  before  him  a 
quick  survey. 

Then  it  was  that  his  glance  rested  for  a  moment 
on  the  bright  picture  of  the  girl,  framed  in  the 
western  window.  The  afternoon  sun  was  shedding 
its  warmth  and  light  on  her  simple  head-dress,  the 
gay  colors  of  her  brocaded  gown,  and  the  brilliant 
beauty  of  her  face.  For  a  second  his  dark  eyes 
met  the  merry  brown  ones  of  Betsey  Schuyler ;  but 
the  next  instant  the  girl  drew  quickly  away  from 
the  window. 

"  Why,  Betsey  !  "  exclaimed  her  younger  sister 
Peggy  from  across  the  room  as  she  caught  Betsey's 
quick  action  and  noted  her  face  ;  "  I  vow,  you  are 
blushing.     What  at?" 

"  Indeed,  I  am  not  blushing,"  protested  Betsey, 
as  she  dropped  the  curtain. 

Then  the  girls  heard  the  blows  of  the  heavy  door- 
knocker resounding  through  the  house. 

"I  wonder,"  continued  Betsey  with  feigned  in- 
difference, as  she  carefully  examined  the  buckles  on 
her  little  high-heeled  slippers,  "  was  papa  expecting 
any  one  this  afternoon,  Peggy." 


ELIZABETH   SCHUYLER.  217 

The  younger  girl  reflected  a  moment,  casting 
meanwhile  a  suspicious  glance  at  her  sister. 

"  H'm,"  she  said  slowly,  "  yes,  I  believe  he  was 
expecting  a  call  from  one  of  General  Washington's 
aids— Mr."  — 

"  Hamilton !  "  broke  in  Betsey,  darting  at  her 
sister,  no  longer  able  to  restrain  her  girlish  enthu- 
siasm over  this  young  stranger  at  the  door.  "  Then 
'twas  he  I  saw  from  the  window  but  now,  for  he 
wears  the  general's  uniform.  And  oh,  Peggy!" 
she  exclaimed,  catching  her  sister  by  the  hand  and 
dancing  her  across  the  room,  "he  is  the  most 
refreshing  sight  I  have  seen  this  long  while." 

Meanwhile  young  Hamilton  was  closeted  below 
with  General  Philip  Schuyler,  the  girl's  father. 
This  visit  to  the  Schuyler  mansion  at  Albany  was 
an  episode  in  the  most  important  event  of  Hamil- 
ton's career,  that  of  his  mission  from  General 
Washington  to  General  Gates  and  the  Army  of  the 
North  to  treat  concerning  reinforcements  for  the 
southern  army.  On  his  way  Colonel  Hamilton 
had  stopped  to  ask  the  advice  of  Gen.  Philip 
Schuyler,  Washington's  trusted  friend.  The  con- 
sultation between  them  was  a  long  one,  and  it  was 
several  hours  before  the  general  brought  the  young 
aid-de-camp  into  the  drawing-room,  where  the  rest 
of  the  household  were  assembled. 

In  the  words  of  one  of  Philip  Schuyler's  con- 
temporaries, the  general  had  "  a  palace  of  a  house  " 
and  lived  "  like  a  prince."     The  young  officer  felt 


218    COLONIAL   DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

this  as  he  passed  through  the  long,  handsomely 
furnished  rooms,  crossed  the  great  white  wain- 
scoted hall,  sixty  feet  in  length,  and  entered  the 
brilliantly  lighted  drawing-room  with  its  deep  win- 
dow-seats and  handsomely  carved  mantels. 

But  Alexander  Hamilton  was  still  more  impressed 
with  the  atmosphere  of  cordiality  and  sociability 
that  pervaded  the  fine  old  colonial  house.  Another 
youthful  aide-de-camp,  Col.  Tench  Tilghman,  has 
left,  in  his  chatty  diary,  enthusiastic  testimony  of 
the  Schuyler  hospitality  and  good-fellowship. 

"  There  is  something  in  the  behavior  of  the  gen- 
eral, his  lady  and  daughters,"  he  writes,  "  that 
makes  one  acquainted  with  them  instantly.  I  feel 
easy  and  free  from  restraint  at  his  seat  as  I  feel  at 
Cliffden,  where  I  am  always  at  a  second  home." 

Hamilton,  too,  had  experienced  this  sensation  of 
pleasant  familiarity  in  the  general's  reception  of 
him,  and  as  he  was  presented  to  the  "lady  and 
daughters  "  of  the  family  he  found  it  again  in  their 
cordial  welcome. 

But  soon  he  was  conscious  of  nothing  but  the 
charming  presence  of  Mistress  Betsey  Schuyler. 

"  Colonel  Hamilton  needs  no  introduction,"  she 
was  saying,  with  an  elaborate  courtesy,  and  there 
was  a  ring  of  frankness  and  freshness  in  her  voice 
that  won  Hamilton's  admiration  immediately.  "  His 
name  is  familiar  to  all  who  honor  bravery  and 
patriotism." 

"Still   less  does  Miss   Schuyler  need  one,"  he 


ELIZABETH  SCHUYLER.  219 

returned,  with  his  most  courtly  bow ;  "  praises  of 
her  are  on  the  lips  of  all  lovers  of  wit  and  beauty.'' 

"Oh,  Mr.  Hamilton,  I  spoke  sincerely,"  she 
exclaimed,  with  a  deprecatory  motion  of  her  fan. 
She  seated  herself  again  within  the  broad  window 
where  she  had  received  her  father's  guest,  smiling 
up  into  the  face  of  the  young  officer. 

"  You  cannot  have  spoken  more  so  than  I.  Be- 
lieve me,  Miss  Schuyler,  fame  has  not  been  silent 
on  so  fair  a  subject,"  he  replied  earnestly,  taking 
a  seat  beside  her. 

One  of  Betsey  Schuyler's  admirers  has  described 
her  eyes  as  "  the  most  good-natured,  dark,  lovely 
eyes  I  ever  saw."  Colonel  Hamilton  was  of  the 
same  opinion  as  he  looked  into  their  shining  depths. 

"  Fame  ?  "  she  repeated,  echoing  his  word  with  a 
light  laugh  of  derision.  "  I  shall  need  to  ask  you 
to  be  more  particular  in  your  charges,  Colonel 
Hamilton.  What  dreadful  things  do  my  friends  in 
the  Jerseys  say  of  me  ?  " 

"  Well,  madam,  if  you  wish  to  know,"  he  replied, 
with  one  of  his  electric  smiles,  "  the  ladies  lay  it 
against  you  that  you  are  too  charming,  and  the 
gentlemen  declare  that  you  are  the  soul  of  good- 
ness and  sweetness,  but "  —  he  stopped  suddenly 
with  a  questioning  glance  in  her  direction. 

"  Pray  go  on,"  commanded  Betsey,  turning  a  very 
inquisitive  face  towards  him.  "  You  are  arrived 
at  the  most  interesting  point  of  your  discourse  — 
the  but:' 


220    COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

"  But,"  he  went  on,  taking  up  her  word  and 
turning  upon  Miss  Betsey  so  searching  a  glance 
that  she  was  forced  to  drop  her  eyes,  "  they  admit 
that  in  an  affair  of  the  heart  you  can  be  very  cruel, 
Miss  Schuyler." 

Her  dark  lashes  swept  her  cheek  and  a  smile 
dimpled  the  corners  of  her  mouth.  Hamilton  bent 
toward  her  to  get  a  nearer  view  of  her  face  so 
expressive  of  kindness  and  merry  frankness.  His 
teasing  mood  passed  into  seriousness. 

"It  is  not  to  be  credited  that  you  are  ever 
cruel,"  he  said  ;    "  are  you  ?  " 

"Is  it  cruel  to  say  'no'to  the  wrong  man?" 
queried  Betsey  pensively. 

There  was  a  brief  pause  after  this  demure  re- 
mark. Betsey's  fan  slipped  to  the  floor.  Colonel 
Hamilton  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  and  as  he  handed 
it  to  her  their  eyes  met. 

Betsey  looked  into  the  strong,  keen  face  and  the 
dark  eyes  full  of  force  and  energy,  now  lighted 
with  the  enthusiasm  of  boyish  admiration.  She 
was  quick  to  read  the  signs  of  Hamilton's  superi- 
ority over  other  young  men,  and  discerned,  per- 
haps, a  prophecy  of  his  greatness  and  success.  He 
saw,  in  the  sweet  face  before  him,  not  only  charm 
and  beauty,  but  goodness  and  sincerity  also,  and 
the  evidence  of  a  bright  and  active  mind. 

"  I  pray  you,  let  us  not  talk  of  the  wrong  man, 
Miss  Betsey,"  he  said,  "  I  am  anxious  for  a  few 
hints  as  to  what  the  right  man  must  be." 


ELIZABETH  SCHUYLER.  221 

The  words  themselves  were  but  the  customary 
gallantry  of  the  time,  but  the  ardent  tone  in  which 
they  were  uttered  called  the  flush  to  Betsey's 
cheek.  It  is  uncertain  what  she  might  have  said 
in  reply  if  "good  Mrs.  Schuyler,"  as  Franklin 
called  the  general's  wife,  had  not  joined  them  just 
then  with  inquiries  as  to  Colonel  Hamilton's  health 
and  the  fatigues  of  his  journey. 

Hamilton  responded  gratefully  to  the  solicitude  of 
Catherine  Schuyler,  the  "  mamma  "  of  the  Schuyler 
girls  and  boys,  of  whom  it  is  said  that  she  had 
"  the  soft  manners  of  a  gentlewoman  and  the 
tender  heart  of  a  mother." 

The  young  Schuyler  boys,  lively,  mischievous 
little  chaps,  to  whom  every  soldier  was  a  hero, 
were  also  anxious  to  make  the  acquaintance  of 
General  Washington's  aide-de-camp.  And  so,  as 
Hamilton  was  exceedingly  fond  of  children,  he 
soon  had  them  beside  him,  regaling  them  with 
tales  of  camp  life,  march,  and  battles,  into  which 
their  father,  the  general,  entered  with  the  spirit  of  an 
old  campaigner,  while  the  girls,  Betsey,  Peggy,  and 
the  small  Cordelia,  with  their  mother,  sat  by  laugh- 
ing at  the  jokes  and  commenting  on  the  stories. 

Presently  dinner  was  announced,  and  then  the 
Schuyler  dining-room  resounded  with  merry  voices 
and  laughter  and  the  jingling  of  plates  and  glasses, 
while  the  young  aide-de-camp  did  honor  to  the  good 
dinner  and  General  Schuyler's  Madeira,  which  is 
reported  to  have  been  excellent. 


222    COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

After  dinner  Hamilton  was  permitted  to  resume 
his  tete-a-tete  with  Miss  Betsey.  It  is  surprising 
how  much  two  attractive  young  people  can  tell 
each  other  in  the  short  period  of  a  few  hours. 
Betsey  soon  knew  a  great  deal  about  Hamilton's 
early  history,  his  island  home  in  the  West  Indies, 
his  faint  memories  of  his  French  mother  and  his 
Scottish  father,  his  untaught  childhood,  his  en- 
trance as  a  boy  of  twelve  into  the  West  Indian 
counting-house,  and  his  voyage  to  the  United 
States.  She  had  already  heard  of  him  as  the  re- 
markable young  orator  of  King's  College,  New 
York,  the  patriotic  writer  of  pamphlets,  and  the 
able  artillery  officer  and  aid  of  General  Washing- 
ton. But  his  story  as  told  by  himself  in  his  eager 
speech  and  quick  motions  possessed  a  charm  no 
history  can  give. 

Betsey  in  return  told  tales  of  her  own  child- 
hood and  early  girlhood  on  the  northern  frontier, 
while  the  young  officer  listened  with  enthusiastic 
interest,  fixing  his  eloquent  dark  eyes  on  her  face 
as  she  talked. 

Of  course  what  she  related  to  Colonel  Hamilton 
that  evening  forms  but  a  small  part  of  the  story  of 
her  life,  which  certainly  is  as  full  of  danger  and 
adventure  as  a  romance.  The  events  which  have 
made  history  entered  into  it  very  intimately,  the 
lights  and  shadows  of  deep  joys  and  sorrows  colored 
it,  and  great  historic  personages,  lords  and  ladies, 
generals,  statesmen,  and  presidents,  figured  largely 


ELIZABETH  SCHUYLER.  223 

in  its  pages,  all  paying  their  tribute  to  this  charm- 
ing daughter  of  colonial  days. 

The  house  where  she  was  born  is  still  standing, 
four  miles  above  Albany.  "  The  Flatts,"  as  it  was 
called,  the  ancestral  home  of  the  Schuylers,  is  a 
hospitable  old  mansion  shaded  by  great  trees  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  pleasant  green  lawn  that  slopes  down 
to  the  river.  The  thick  walls  of  the  house  and  the 
bullet-hole  through  the  stout  Dutch  shutter  bring 
to  mind  the  stormy  days  into  which  Elizabeth  was 
born. 

At  the  time  of  her  birth  her  father,  Philip  Schuy- 
ler, then  a  young  captain  under  General  Bradstreet, 
the  quartermaster  of  the  English  army,  was  en- 
gaged in  the  war  against  the  French  and  Indians. 
His  family  bible  contains  this  entry : 

"Elizabeth,  born  August  9,  1757.  Lord,  do 
according  to  thy  will  with  her." 

When  she  was  only  two  months  old  the  frightful 
massacre  of  the  German  Flats  occurred,  and  the 
refugees  fled  to  Albany.  In  the  big  barn  at  "  the 
Flatts"  they  found  shelter.  The  little  Schuyler 
babies,  Elizabeth  and  Angelica,  who  Avas  scarcely 
a  year  older  than  her  sister,  had  to  be  set  aside 
while  their  young  mother,  Catherine  Schuyler,  with 
the  other  women  of  the  household,  helped  in  minis- 
tering to  the  needs  of  the  poor,  destitute  people. 

At  this  time,  too,  the  town  of  Albany  was  filled 
with  rapacious  English  troops  and  army  traders. 
A  detachment  of  redcoats  under  Gen.  Charles  Lee 


224    COLONIAL   DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

lay  in  the  "  Indian  Field,"  a  lot  adjoining  the 
ground  of  the  Schuyler  mansion,  and  they  did  not 
hesitate  to  lay  hands  on  whatever  suited  their  pur- 
pose. Abercrombie,  Lee,  and  kindly  courteous 
Lord  Howe  were  all  visitors  at "  the  Flatts  "  during 
this  period. 

Later,  when  the  defeat  of  Ticonderoga  came,  the 
Schuyler  barn  again  opened  its  hospitable  doors. 
This  time  it  was  converted  into  a  hospital,  and 
the  wounded  British  and  Provincial  soldiers  lay 
beneath  the  rafters,  fed  by  the  negro  slaves  and 
nursed  by  the  mistresses  of  the  Schuyler  home- 
stead. 

But  the  cries  of  the  homeless  and  the  moans  of 
the  wounded  were  not  the  only  sounds  heard  in  the 
old  historic  barn.  The  baby  voices  of  the  little 
Schuyler  girls  resounded  there,  amid  the  "  lowing 
of  the  cattle  "  and  "  the  cooing  of  the  doves  in  the 
eaves." 

Happier  and  more  peaceful  days,  too,  were  com- 
ing. When  the  storm  of  war  had  passed,  the  Pro- 
vincials laid  aside  their  muskets  and  returned  to 
their  industries  and  professions.  It  was  then  that 
the  Schuyler  house  at  Albany  was  built,  hereafter 
to  be  known  as  the  family  mansion.  We  have  seen 
how  deeply  Hamilton  was  impressed  with  its  mag- 
nificence on  that  memorable  afternoon  when  he  first 
met  Mistress  Betsey.  The  Count  de  Castelleux  has 
left  a  description  of  it  as  it  was  then.  "  A  hand- 
some house,"  lie  wrote,"  half-way  up  the  bank  oppo- 


ELIZABETH  SCHUYLER.  225 

site  to  the  ferry,  seemed  to  attract  attention,  and  to 
invite  strangers  to  stop  at  General  Schuyler's,  who 
is  the  proprietor  as  well  as  the  architect.  The 
house  is  imposingly  placed  on  high  ground,  at  that 
time  in  full  view  of  the  river." 

It  still  stands,  an  impressive  old  house  built  of 
yellow  brick ;  it  is  an  "  institution  "  now,  and  little 
orphan  babies  are  living  in  the  rooms  where  Betsey 
Schuyler  grew  up  with  her  sisters  and  brothers, 
danced  and  flirted  with  the  buff  and  blue  coats, 
and  entertained  the  great  people  of  colonial  and 
Revolutionary  days. 

Here,  in  the  centre  of  city  life,  comforts,  and 
amusements,  the  Schuylers  spent  the  winter 
months,  while  their  summers  were  passed  at  their 
country  home  in  old  Saratoga. 

"My  hobby,"  General  Schuyler  wrote  to  John 
Jay,  "  has  always  been  a  country  home  life ; "  and 
much  time,  energy,  and  money  were  lavished  on 
his  "  castle  "  beside  the  Hudson,  at  old  Saratoga,  — 
now  known  as  Schuylerville. 

The  long  two-storied  house,  with  its  great  cen- 
tral hall  and  its  rows  of  colonial  pillars,  was  very 
like  Washington's  Mount  Vernon  home.  At  the 
foot  of  the  slope  on  which  it  stood  ran  the  tum- 
bling, winding  stream  of  the  Fishkill,  surrounding 
little  wooded  islands  and  breaking  into  miniature 
waterfalls.  On  all  sides  stretched  the  flourishing 
vegetable  and  flower  gardens,  the  orchards  and  the 
vineyards,  and  the  fields  of  flax  and  grain. 


226    COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

The  house  overflowed  with  hospitality  and  gener- 
osity. On  cool  evenings  the  open  fires  blazed  and 
sparkled,  and  the  windows  shone  with  warmth  and 
good  cheer.  The  large  Dutch  kitchen  was  always 
redolent  with  the  smell  of  delicious  bread  and 
cakes  and  pies. 

There  were  seasons  of  soap-making,  candle-dip- 
ping, cider-making,  spinning,  weaving,  and  dyeing, 
and  there  were  open-air  festivities  for  the  gather- 
ing-in  of  vegetables  and  fruits.  There  were  drives 
to  the  beautiful  banks  of  the  Hudson  and  the 
mineral  springs  about  Saratoga,  while  gay  river 
parties,  in  sloops  and  covered  barges,  sent  the 
sounds  of  song  and  laughter  floating  across  the 
wide  waters  of  the  Hudson. 

In  the  midst  of  this  happy  and  prosperous  life 
we  can  see  the  lively,  dark-eyed  Schuyler  girls 
taking  an  active  part.  But  none  of  these  pleasant 
pastimes  were  allowed  to  interfere  with  their  edu- 
cation. 

As  the  daughter  of  so  worthy  and  distinguished 
a  man  as  General  Schuyler,  Betsey  received  an 
education  superior  to  that  of  most  colonial  girls. 
She,  with  her  sisters  Angelica  and  Margaret,  or 
"  Peggy,"  as  she  was  familiarly  called,  was  sent  to 
New  York  to  school.  Their  New  York  relative, 
James  Livingston,  sends  this  interesting  report 
of  their  progress  there :  "  The  young  ladies  are  in 
perfect  health  and  improving  in  their  education  in 
a  manner  beyond  belief,  and  are  grown  to  such  a 


ELIZABETH  SCHUYLER.  227 

degree  that  all  the  tucks  in  their  gowns  had  to  be 
let  down  some  time  ago."  Betsey  becomes  very 
real  as  soon  as  we  hear  of  her  outgrowing  her 
frocks  just  as  modern  little  girls  do. 

There  were  some  things,  however,  included  in 
Betsey's  education  of  which  the  girls  of  the  present 
day  are  quite  ignorant.  The  near  neighborhood 
of  the  Indians  and  the  friendly  relations  of  some 
of  them  with  the  colonists  occasioned  a  certain 
intimacy  between  the  children  of  both  people. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  Betsey  learned  weaving  and 
plaiting  and  other  such  accomplishments  from  the 
little  Indian  girls  with  whom  she  played. 

The  honor  and  respect  in  which  she  and  the  rest 
of  General  Schuyler's  family  were  held  by  the 
Indians  is  shown  in  a  picturesque  incident  of 
Betsey's  childhood  that  has  come  down  to  us. 
This  is  the  story  as  it  has  been  told  before : 

"  All  the  chiefs  and  greatest  warriors  of  the  Six 
Nations,"  says  the  chronicler,  "  had  met  in  solemn 
council,  row  after  row  of  fine  specimens  of  man- 
hood standing  silently  around  an  open  space  where 
a  bit  of  greensward  gleamed  in  the  sunshine. 
Although  they  were  dressed  in  all  the  barbaric 
pomp  of  war-paint,  there  was  peace  on  their  faces 
as  they  stood  awaiting  the  approach  of  a  small 
group  of  whites  —  one  or  two  officers  in  full  uni- 
form and  a  tall,  commanding  man  in  the  prime  of 
life,  leading  by  the  hand  a  slim  girl  of  about  thirteen, 
dressed  in  white  with   uncovered  head  and  half- 


228    COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

curious,  half -frightened  eyes.  This  man  was  Gen. 
Philip  Schuyler,  whom  the  Indians  honored  as 
they  did  no  other  white  man  ;  and  they  had  met  to 
offer  him  a  tribute  of  devotion.  At  a  sign  from 
their  great  chief,  their  ranks  parted  to  admit  Gen- 
eral Schuyler,  who  advanced  into  the  open  space, 
still  leading  his  little  daughter.  There,  with  much 
pomp  and  many  ceremonies,  the  child  was  formally 
adopted  by  the  Six  Nations,  the  chiefs  ending  the 
sacred  rites  by  laying  their  hands  upon  her  head 
and  giving  her  an  Indian  name  meaning  '  One  of 
us.'  " 

The  little  girl  dressed  in  white,  with  "  half-curi- 
ous, half-frightened  eyes,"  was  Betsey  Schuyler, 
and  we  can  easily  imagine  how  impressed  and  awed 
she  must  have  been  by  this  strange  adventure 
among  the  Indian  warriors. 

In  striking  contrast  to  such  an  intercourse  with 
the  half-savage  reel  men  of  the  woods  and  wig- 
wams was  the  gay  "  court  life  "  in  which  Mistress 
Betsey  was  included  as  soon  as  she  had  outgrown 
her  short  gowns  and  "tucks,"  and  had  attained 
the  dignity  of  young  womanhood. 

The  large  number  of  relatives  which  the  Schuy- 
lers  possessed,  among  the  Van  Cortlandts,  Living- 
stons, Van  Rensselaers,  and  Schuylers  of  New  York, 
made  visiting  within  the  court  circle  in  the  proud 
little  city  at  the  mouth  of  the  Hudson  a  frequent 
and  enjoyable  occurrence  for  the  Albany  family. 

To  one  of  Betsey  Schuyler's  social  tastes,  New 


ELIZABETH  SCHUYLER.  229 

York  life  was  rendered  very  attractive  by  the 
fascinating  "  redcoats "  and  the  handsome  Pro- 
vincial dandies,  by  the  amusements  of  the  play, 
the  promenade  along  the  Mall  in  front  of  Trinity, 
and  the  receptions  and  balls  at  Fort  George  on  the 
Battery,  where  the  government  house  stood.  Talk 
of  tyranny,  taxes,  and  politics  mingled  with  the 
social  chat  and  gossip  of  the  day,  and  we  may  be 
sure  that  so  bright  and  patriotic  a  young  woman 
as  Betsey  was  well  informed  on  current  topics,  — ■ 
the  growing  disafTections  and  protests,  and  the 
rumblings  of  war. 

When  news  of  the  battle  of  Lexington  came 
Betsey  was  at  Saratoga  with  the  rest  of  the  family. 
War  had  begun  and,  in  the  days  that  followed,  she 
lived  in  the  midst  of  army  talk  and  army  doings. 
For  generals,  officers,  and  aides-de-camp  were  com- 
ing and  going  continually  at  the  Schuyler  mansion. 

Some  of  them  have  left  their  impressions  of 
Betsey  Schuyler  as  she  was  then  —  a  charming 
girl  of  eighteen,  full  of  spirit,  good  sense,  and 
amiability.  A  very  bright  picture  of  her  appears 
in  the  diary  of  Tench  Tilghman,  a  young  Mary- 
lander,  one  of  Washington's  aides-de-camp,  who 
came  to  Albany  to  attend  the  Indian  council  which 
was  held  there  early  in  the  summer. 

"  Having  taken  leave  of  my  host,"  he  writes,  "  I 
called  at  the  General  Schuyler's  to  pay  my  com- 
pliments to  the  general,  his  lady,  and  daughters. 
I  found  none  of  them  at  home  but  Miss  Betsey 


230    COLONIAL   DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

Schuyler,  the  general's  second  daughter,  to  whom 
I  was  introduced  by  Mr.  Commissary  Livingston, 
who  accompanied  me.  I  was  prepossessed  in  favor 
of  the  young  lady  the  moment  I  saw  her.  A 
brunette,  with  the  most  good-natured,  dark,  lovely 
eyes  I  ever  saw,  which  threw  a  beam  of  good  temper 
and  benevolence  over  her  entire  countenance.  Mr. 
Livingston  informed  me  that  I  was  not  mistaken  in 
my  conjecture,  for  she  was  the  finest-tempered  girl 
in  the  world." 

The  acquaintance  between  Betsey  and  the  young 
Southerner  so  favorably  begun  did  not  stop  here. 

Gayeties  were  soon  started.  Among  them  was  a 
picnic  to  the  picturesque  "  cataract "  of  Cohoes  Falls, 
above  Albany,  Mrs.  Lynch  and  Mrs.  Cuyler  driving 
there  in  a  post-chaise,  "  Miss  Betsey  Schuyler  and 
Mr.  Cuyler  in  a  kind  of  phaeton,  Miss  Lynch  and 
Mr.  Tilghman  in  a  third." 

At  the  Falls  Betsey's  dexterity  in  climbing  over 
the  rocks  amazed  young  Tilghman,  for  she  "  dis- 
dained all  assistance,  and  made  herself  merry  at 
the  expense  of  the  other  ladies."  Presently  the 
picnickers  refreshed  themselves  with  the  lunch 
of  "  sherbet  and  biscuit "  which  the  young  aide-de- 
camp provided.  On  their  way  back  they  stopped 
at  a  farmhouse  for  dinner,  arriving  home  in  the 
evening  just  in  time  for  the  Indian  dance,  "  which 
being  entirely  novel  was  the  more  entertaining  to 
the  ladies." 

The  next  day  the  Schuylers  gave  a  dinner-party, 


ELIZABETH  SCHUYLER.  231 

to  which  Mr.  Tilghman,  some  Carolina  friends  of 
his,  and  several  generals  were  invited.  The  con- 
versation at  table  was  very  lively.  A  proposition 
was  made  that  the  yonng  Southerner,  as  a  promis- 
ing young  man,  should  be  adopted  by  the  Indians. 
For  this  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  receive  an 
Indian  name  and  take  an  Indian  wife.  Miss  Betsey 
Schuyler  and  Miss  Lynch  agreed  to  "  stand  brides- 
maids," and  young  Tilghman  entered  into  the  fun 
with  spirit.  That  evening  he  was  adopted  by  the 
Indians,  and  christened  Teokokolonde,  which  means 
"  One  having  courage." 

For  a  week  the  festivities  lasted.  Then  General 
Schuyler  was  obliged  to  set  out  for  Ticonderoga,  and 
Mrs.  Schuyler  and  the  girls  returned  to  Saratoga. 

On  the  morning  of  their  departure  the  young 
Southerner  "  went  out  to  breakfast  with  the  general, 
and  to  take  my  leave  of  the  ladies.  I  found  the 
girls  up  and  ready,  for  the  March  breakfast  was  on 
the  table,  and  down  I  sat  among  them  like  an  old 
acquaintance,  though  this  is  only  the  seventh  day 
since  my  introduction.  It  would  be  seven  years 
before  I  could  be  so  intimate  with  half  the  world ; 
but  there  is  so  much  frankness  and  freshness  in 
this  family  that  a  man  must  be  dead  to  every  feel- 
ing of  familiarity  who  is  not  familiarized  the  first 
hour  of  being  among1  them." 

These  enthusiastic  words  call  up  a  delightful 
picture  of  the  Schuylers'  hospitality  and  sociability. 
Wo    can    easily   imagine    the    lively   brown-eyed 


232    COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

Betsey  in  this  scene  of  genial  home  life.  Nor  is 
this  her  last  appearance  in  the  pages  of  Mr.  Tilgh- 
man's  diary.  He  was  to  see  her  once  more  before 
leaving  Albany. 

"  Who  should  bless  my  eyes  again  this  evening," 
he  writes,  "  but  good-natured,  agreeable  Betsey 
Schuyler  just  returned  from  Saratoga.  With  her 
was  Miss  Ranslaer,  with  whom  she  is  staying." 
Mr.  Tilghman  had  heard  of  "  Miss  Ranslaer's " 
numerous  beaux,  and  could  talk  with  her  "on  such 
agreeable  matters,  lamenting  my  short  stay  out  of 
compliment  to  her,  and  such  commonplace  stuff. 
But  I  told  Miss  Schuyler  so  with  truth,"  he  adds, 
"  for  I  am  under  infinite  obligations  to  the  kindness 
of  her  and  her  family." 

All  Revolutionary  days,  however,  were  not  so  full 
of  fun  and  enjoyment  for  Betsey  Schuyler  as  those 
described  in  young  Tilghman's  diary.  There  was 
a  time  of  nursing  and  anxiety  when  her  father 
was  brought  home  sick  and  exhausted  with  his 
wearing  service  in  the  north.  At  one  time  the 
Schuyler  home  and  the  master's  life  were  threatened. 
But  the  Indian  who  had  been  stationed  near  the 
house  to  shoot  General  Schuyler  faltered,  so  the 
story  goes,  as  he  raised  the  pistol,  while  memories 
of  the  general's  past  kindnesses  came  over  him. 

"  I  have  eaten  his  bread,"  he  said ;  "  I  cannot 
kill  him." 

During  this  period  of  danger  and  anxiety  an 
episode  occurred  in  the  Schuyler  household  that 


ELIZABETH  SCHUYLER.  233 

lends  a  romantic  glamor  to  those  perilous  days. 
This  was  the  elopement  of  Betsey's  elder  sister, 
Angelica,  with  Mr.  John  Church.  The  young 
bridegroom  had  previously  left  England  on  account 
of  a  duel,  and  had  assumed  the  name  of  Carter, 
but  these  incidents  in  his  early  history  only  made 
him  the  more  attractive  to  Miss  Angelica. 

In  those  days  brides  preferred  romantic  settings 
for  their  marriages.  An  elopement  like  this  of 
General  Schuyler's  eldest  daughter  was  by  no 
means  an  unusual  occurrence.  Young  girls  fed 
their  minds  on  exciting  love-stories,  and  dreamed 
of  the  moonlight  night,  the  rope  ladder,  and  the 
coach  and  four. 

"In  the  Schuyler  household,"  says  Miss  Hum- 
phreys, "  elopements  assumed  the  virulence  of  an 
epidemic."  Of  the  five  Schuyler  girls  four  ran 
away  to  get  married.  Betsey  was  the  one  sensible 
daughter.  Along  with  her  lively  disposition  and 
love  of  fun,  she  possessed  a  good  stock  of  com- 
mon sense,  and  her  head  could  not  be  turned  by 
the  foolish  sentimentality  of  the  time. 

Hardly  had  the  Schuyler  family  recovered  from 
the  excitement  of  Angelica's  elopement  when, 
early  in  April,  they  were  called  upon  to  entertain 
three  distinguished  guests.  These  were  Samuel 
Chase,  Charles  Carroll,  and  Benjamin  Franklin, 
who  had  been  appointed  by  Congress  as  commis- 
sioners to  visit  the  Army  of  the  North.  On  their 
way   to    Ticonderoga    they   stopped    at    General 


234   COLONIAL   DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

Schuyler's  home.  "  He  lives  in  fine  style  and  has 
two  daughters,  Betsey  and  Peggy,  lively,  agree- 
able gals,"  writes  one  of  the  commissioners ;  and 
that  gallant  gentleman  Charles  Carroll  of  Carroll- 
ton  records,  "  The  lively  behavior  of  the  young 
ladies  makes  Saratoga  a  most  pleasing  sojourn." 

But  in  spite  of  Betsey's  u  lively  behavior  "  with 
the  younger  commissioners  she  found  time  to  play 
backgammon  with  the  older  one.  Perhaps  one 
of  the  most  pleasing  pictures  we  have  of  Betsey 
is  the  glimpse  of  her  and  Doctor  Franklin,  seated 
in  their  high-backed  easy  chairs  before  the  back- 
gammon board,  the  light  from  the  blazing  fire 
shining  on  her  young  and  animated  face  and  on 
the  quiet,  genial  countenance  of  the  old  phil- 
osopher. 

"  He  was  very  kind  to  me,"  Betsey  said  long 
afterwards. 

This  visit  of  Doctor  Franklin  and  the  other  com- 
missioners at  the  Schuylers'  Saratoga  home  took 
place  a  few  months  before  the  battle  of  Saratoga. 
Betsey  loved  her  father  and  she  must  have  felt 
keenly  the  injustice  that  denied  him  the  credit  of 
a  victory  that  was  his  by  right. 

It  was  not  a  Schuyler  trait,  however,  to  show 
resentment,  and  the  general's  whole  family  tried  to 
forget  a  personal  indignity  in  their  interest  in  the 
country's  welfare.  They  continued  to  show  their 
goodness  in  fresh  expressions  of  kindness  and  hos- 
pitality. 


ELIZABETH  SCHUYLER.  235 

General  Burgoyne,  the  Baroness  Riedesel,  and 
other  prisoners  of  war,  were  sent  to  the  Schuyler 
mansion  at  Albany  for  sa£e  keeping  and  entertain- 
ment. A  short  time  before,  General  Burgoyne  had 
burned  the  Schuyler  house  and  mills  at  Saratoga, 
so  he  was  the  more  affected  by  the  courteous  re- 
ception which  he  received.  Here  is  the  English 
general's  own  testimony: 

"  This  gentleman  (an  aide-de-camp  of  General 
Schuyler's),"  he  wrote,  "  conducted  me  to  a  very 
elegant  house,  and,  to  my  great  surprise,  introduced 
me  to  Mrs.  Schuyler  and  her  family ;  and  in  this 
house  I  remained  during  my  whole  stay  in  Albany, 
with  a  table  of  twenty  covers  for  me  and  my  friends, 
and  every  demonstration  of  hospitality." 

The  general's  gratitude  for  such  considerate 
treatment,  we  are  told,  moved  him  "  even  to  tears." 
But,  as  we  might  suppose,  he  and  his  nineteen 
friends  caused  Mrs.  Schuyler  and  the  young  ladies 
"  no  small  trouble."  Surely  when  these  twenty 
prisoner-guests  went  away  they  must  have  left  a 
much-relieved  family  behind  them. 

The  departure  of  General  Burgoyne  and  his  ret- 
inue from  the  Schuyler  mansion  preceded,  by  a  few 
days,  the  appearance  of  another  visitor  —  the  young 
officer  whom  Betsey  first  saw  from  her  window  that 
pleasant  October  afternoon. 

The  friendship  which  Betsey  formed  with  Alex- 
ander Hamilton  during  his  short  stay  in  Albany 
was  not  destined  to  end  here.     He  carried  away 


236    COLONIAL   DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

with  him  a  sincere  and  lasting  regard  for  the 
bright-eyed,  sweet-faced  Betsey  Schuyler,  and  she 
kept  a  very  pleasant  memory  of  the  brilliant,  boy- 
ish-looking young  aide-de-camp. 

After  a  period  of  almost  two  years  they  met 
again.  General  Schuyler  had  been  appointed  to 
Congress  and  had  gone  to  live  at  Philadelphia  with 
his  family.  The  headquarters  of  the  army  during 
the  campaign  of  1779-80  were  at  Morristown  — 
some  fifty  miles  or  so  from  the  Schuylers'  Phila- 
delphia home.  At  that  time  Betsey's  aunt,  Mrs. 
Cochran,  was  living  at  Morristown,  and  of  course 
she  wanted  her  dear  niece  Betsey  to  pay  her  a  visit. 

It  was  a  cold  November  morning  when  Betsey 
made  her  journey  to  Morristown.  The  river  was 
in  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  and  so  the  trip  had  to  be 
made  across  country  by  a  roundabout  way.  With 
her  furs,  her  rosy  cheeks,  and  her  glistening  dark 
eyes,  she  was  a  very  refreshing  sight  as  she  stepped 
out  of  the  heavy  wagon  that  had  carried  her  with 
flying  speed  over  the  ice  and  the  rough  country 
roads. 

Her  arrival  in  Morristown  was  commented  upon 
in  the  letters  and  diaries  of  the  camp.  Miss  Kitty 
Livingston  considered  her  a  great  "  addition  "  to 
society  there. 

Headquarters  were  very  gay  at  that  time. 
Washington's  household  was  composed  of  a  brill- 
iant company.  Two  of  Betsey's  old  friends,  as 
his  aides-de-camp,  occupied  the  heads  of  his  table 


ELIZABETH   SCHUYLER.  237 

and  undertook  the  entertainment  of  his  guests. 
These  were  Tench  Tilghman  and  Alexander  Hamil- 
ton. Washington  and  his  wife  sat  opposite  each 
other  in  the  centre  of  the  board,  and  on  both  sides, 
almost  continually,  were  ranged  many  distinguished 
visitors.  Impetuous  young  Aaron  Burr  was  of  the 
number,  the  elegant  Baron  Steuben,  and  the  splen- 
did Duke  de  Lauzun.  In  this  illustrious  group 
of  men  Hamilton  shone  as  "  the  bright  particular 
star." 

Betsey  was  soon  making  and  renewing  acquaint- 
ances among  them.  She  and  Tench  Tilghman  had 
much  to  say  to  each  other  about  old  times.  To  the 
Baron  Steuben  she  brought  a  letter  from  her  father, 
in  which  he  commends  his  daughter  to  "  one  of  the 
most  gallant  men  in  camp."  Betsey  must  have 
found  much  to  enjoy  in  the  society  of  this  gay  and 
witty  foreigner.  But  the  one  of  whom  Betsey  saw 
the  most  during  her  visit  to  Morristown  was  Alex- 
ander Hamilton. 

As  it  happened,  her  stay  at  Morristown  was  hap- 
pily prolonged.  Her  father  was  invited  by  the 
commander-in-chief  to  come  to  headquarters  as  his 
military  adviser,  so  the  Schuyler  family  were  soon 
established  at  Morristown.  Their  home  became 
one  of  the  centres  of  social  life.  Hamilton  spent 
most  of  his  evenings  there. 

His  devotion  to  Betsey  was  soon  remarked  in 
camp,  and  the  gossips  of  the  day  exchanged  the 
significant  nod  and  smile  when  he  and  Betsey  were 


238    COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

seen  dancing  or  walking  or  driving  together. 
Every  one  was  interested  in  this  "  affair,"  from  the 
commander-in-chief  to  Tench  Tilghman  and  Kitty 
Livingston.  Yonng  Tilghman  wrote  to  his  brother, 
"  Hamilton  is  a  gone  man." 

Meanwhile  Hamilton  and  Betsey  were  enjoying 
themselves,  quite  unmindful  of  the  talk  they  were 
occasioning.  Hamilton  was  so  much  in  earnest 
that  his  love  made  him  decidedly  absent-minded. 

One  night,  when  returning  to  headquarters,  after 
an  evening  in  Betsey's  society,  his  thoughts  were  so 
occupied  that  he  could  not  recall  the  countersign. 
For  once  in  his  life  his  eloquence  failed  him,  and  he 
stood  dumb  and  perplexed  before  the  amazed  sen- 
tinel. Presently  he  caught  sight  of  the  lad  at 
whose  father's  house  Washington  and  he  were  then 
staying.  He  remembered  that  the  boy  had  been 
given  the  countersign,  that  he  might  play  on  the 
village  green  after  dark.  So  he  called  the  lad  to 
him  and  asked  him  to  whisper  him  the  countersign. 
This  the  boy  did,  and  the  young  lover  was  finally 
allowed  to  pass.  But  his  friends  and  fellow-officers 
got  hold  of  the  story  and  chaffed  him  about  it  at 
dinner  next  day. 

Hamilton  was  as  impetuous  in  love  as  he  was  in 
war,  and  his  wooing  was  as  eloquent  as  his  oratory. 
Betsey, .  however,  although  she  had  made  up  her 
mind  early  in  the  courtship,  kept  her  lover  waiting 
the  proper  length  of  time.  Before  the  next  sum- 
mer their  engagement  was  announced  and  was  duly 


ELIZABETH  SCHUYLER.  239 

recorded  in  all  the  journals  and  correspondence  of 
the  camp. 

General  Schuyler  was  almost  as  much  pleased  as 
the  young  people  themselves,  and  wrote  affection- 
ately to  his  future  son-in-law. 

"  You  cannot,  my  dear  sir,"  he  assured  him,  "  be 
more  happy  at  the  connection  you  have  made  with 
my  family  than  I  am.  Until  the  child  of  a  parent 
has  made  a  judicious  choice  his  heart  is  in  continual 
anxiety  ;  but  this  anxiety  was  relieved  the  moment 
I  discovered  upon  whom  she  had  placed  her  affec- 
tions. I  am  pleased  with  every  instance  of  delicacy 
in  those  who  are  dear  to  me,  and  I  think  I  read 
your  soul  on  that  occasion  you  mention.  I  shall 
therefore  only  entreat  you  to  consider  me  as  one 
who  wishes  to  promote  your  happiness;  and  I 
shall." 

In  the  following  summer  occurred  the  Arnold 
treason  and  the  execution  of  Andre.  Betsey  was 
then  at  Saratoga,  but  her  lover's  letters  to  her  asso- 
ciate her  intimately  with  both  events.  These  let- 
ters have  become  a  part  of  history.  But  Betsey 
received  another  sort  of  letter,  devoted  to  other 
matter  than  that  of  treason,  war,  and  politics. 

"  I  would  not  have  you  imagine,  Miss,"  Hamilton 
wrote  her,  "  that  I  write  you  so  often  to  gratify 
your  wishes  or  please  your  vanity ;  but  merely  to 
indulge  myself  and  to  comply  with  that  restless 
propensity  of  my  mind  which  will  not  be  happy 
unless  I  am  doing  something  in  which  you  are  con- 


240    COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

cerned.  This  may  seem  a  very  idle  disposition  in 
a  philosopher  and  a  soldier,  but  I  can  plead  illus- 
trious examples  in  my  justification.  Achilles 
liked  to  have  sacrificed  Greece  and  his  glory  to  a 
female  captive  ;  and  Antony  lost  the  world  for  a 
woman.  I  am  very  sorry  times  have  so  changed  as 
to  oblige  me  to  go  to  antiquity  for  my  apology,  but 
I  confess,  to  the  disgrace  of  the  present,  that  I  have 
not  been  able  to  find  as  many  who  are  as  far  gone 
as  myself  in  the  laudable  zeal  of  the  fair  sex.  I 
suspect,  however,  that  if  others  knew  the  charm  of 
my  sweetheart  as  I  do,  I  could  have  a  great  number 
of  competitors.  I  wish  I  could  give  you  an  idea  of 
her.  You  have  no  conception  of  how  sweet  a  girl 
she  is.  It  is  only  in  my  heart  that  her  image  is 
truly  drawn.  She  has  a  lovely  form  and  still  more 
lovely  mind.  She  is  all  goodness,  the  gentlest,  the 
dearest,  the  tenderest  of  her  sex,  — ah,  Betsey,  how 
I  love  her !  " 

Few  great  men  have  written  so  sweet  a  love- 
letter  ;  but  perhaps  few  great  men  had  so  charming 
a  sweetheart  to  inspire  them. 

On  December  14,  1780,  Elizabeth  Schuyler  and 
Alexander  Hamilton  Avere  married  in  the  ample  and 
handsome  drawing-room  of  the  Schuyler  mansion  at 
Albany,  where  three  years  before,  if  reports  be  true, 
they  had  met  and  loved. 

Elizabeth  Schuyler's  story  as  a  daughter  of  colo- 
nial days  ends  with  her  marriage.  The  merry, 
light-hearted  Betsey  has  become  Mrs.  Alexander 


ELIZABETH  SCHUYLER.  241 

Hamilton,  one  of  the  most  prominent  leaders  of 
official  society.  She  was  eminently  fitted  for  her 
high  position.  In  her  father's  home  she  had  been 
accustomed  to  entertaining  the  great  people  of  the 
day ;  from  her  mother  she  had  learned  the  ways  of 
a  large  and  ever-ready  hospitality ;  while  her  own 
brightness,  grace,  and  ability  ensured  her  success. 

We  may  judge  how  great  a  lady  Betsey  had 
become  when  we  read  that,  at  Washington's  inaug- 
uration ball,  the  President  distinguished  Mrs.  Ham- 
ilton and  one  other  woman  by  dancing  with  them. 
She  and  her  husband  were  included  constantly  in 
Washington's  dinner  and  theatre  parties. 

The  Hamiltons  were  not  rich.  "  I  have  seen," 
writes  Talleyrand,  "  one  of  the  marvels  of  the  world. 
I  have  seen  the  man  who  made  the  fortune  of  a 
nation  laboring  all  night   to  support  his  family." 

Yet  in  spite  of  their  slender  means  the  Hamiltons 
were  frequent  entertainers.  Their  official  position 
and  their  popularity  as  host  and  hostess  surrounded 
them  with  many  acquaintances  and  friends,  and 
their  home  on  Wall  street  became  a  favorite  resort 
for  the  rank  and  fashion  of  New  York.  There  are 
records  of  many  elaborate  dinners  given  by  them, 
notably  one  in  honor  of  Thomas  Jefferson,  after  his 
return  from  France. 

Hamilton,  however,  was  not  merely  the  most 
brilliant  statesman  of  his  day  and  Betsey  was  not 
only  a  charming  society  woman.  There  are  glimpses 
of  a  beautiful  home  life  led  apart  from  their  official 


242    COLONIAL   DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

duties  and  social  obligations.  Here  is  a  letter 
written  by  Hamilton,  shortly  after  the  birth  of  their 
first  son,  to  Mead,  one  of  his  army  friends  : 

"  You  cannot  imagine  how  domestic  I  am  becom- 
ing," he  writes.  "  I  sigh  for  nothing  but  the  so- 
ciety of  my  wife  and  baby.  Betsey  is  so  fond  of 
your  family  that  she  proposes  to  form  a  match 
between  her  boy  and  your  girl.  He  is  truly  a  very 
fine  young  gentleman,  the  most  agreeable  in  his 
conversation  and  manners  of  any  one  I  ever  saw, 
nor  less  remarkable  for  his  intelligence  and  sweet- 
ness of  temper.  You  are  not  to  imagine  by  my 
beginning  with  his  mental  qualifications  that  he  is 
defective  in  personal.  It  is  agreed  on  all  hands 
that  he  is  handsome :  his  features  are  good,  his  eye 
is  not  only  sprightly  and  expressive,  but  full  of 
benignity.  His  attitude  in  sitting  is  by  connois- 
seurs esteemed  graceful,  and  he  has  a  method  of 
waving  his  hand  that  announces  the  future  orator. 
He  stands,  however,  rather  awkwardly,  and  his  legs 
have  not  all  that  delicate  slimness  of  his  father's. 
It  is  feared  that  he  may  never  excel  in  dancing, 
which  is  probably  the  only  accomplishment  in 
which  he  will  not  excel.  If  he  has  any  faults  in 
his  manners,  he  laughs  too  much.  He  is  now  in  his 
seventh  month." 

This  is  certainly  a  picture  of  true  domestic  hap- 
piness, and  there  are  other  later  scenes  of  an  equally 
affectionate  family  life.  There  is  that  one  of  Hamil- 
ton   accompanying  his  daughter  Angelica  at   the 


ELIZABETH  SCHUYLER.  243 

piano  when  she  sang  or  played  —  his  beautiful 
young  daughter,  who  lost  her  mind  after  her 
father's  tragic  death.  Then  there  is  that  one  of 
Mrs.  Hamilton  "  seated  at  the  table  cutting  slices 
of  bread  and  spreading  them  with  butter  for  the 
younger  boys,  who,  standing  by  her  side,  read  in 
turn  a  chapter  in  the  Bible  or  a  portion  of  Gold- 
smith's 'Rome.'  When  the  lessons  were  finished 
the  father  and  the  elder  children  were  called  to 
breakfast,  after  which  the  boys  vvTere  packed  off 
to  school."  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  among 
the  elder  boys  included  in  the  family  at  one 
time  was  Lafayette's  son,  George  Washington  La- 
fayette, who  was  confided  to  the  care  of  Hamilton 
during  the  frightful  days  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tion. 

Hamilton's  reason  for  resigning  his  seat  in  the 
Cabinet  lias  become  historic.  In  it  we  see  a  proof 
of  his  love  for  his  wife  and  children. 

"  To  indulge  my  domestic  happiness  more 
freely,"  he  writes,  "  was  the  principal  motive  for 
relinquishing  an  office  in  which  it  is  said  I  have 
gained  some  glory." 

In  this  life  of  "  domestic  happiness  "  for  which 
Hamilton  resigned  his  career  as  a  statesman,  Eliza- 
beth Hamilton  was  a  bright  and  cheerful  influence. 
She  entered  warmly  into  her  husband's  plans,  and 
sympathized  heartily  in  the  interests  of  her  chil- 
dren. That  sweetness  of  disposition  and  kindness 
of  heart  which  in  her  girlhood  had  so  endeared  her 


244    COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

to  her  friends  made  her  relations  as  wife  and 
mother  very  beautiful. 

The  peace  and  gladness  of  the  Hamilton  home 
were  cruelly  ended  on  that  fatal  July  morning,  in 
1804,  when  Hamilton  lost  his  life.  At  his  un- 
timely death  all  America  mourned,  but  the  terrible 
sorrow  of  his  family  cannot  be  described. 

His  wife,  the  dear  "  Betsey "  of  his  boyhood, 
survived  her  husband  for  fifty  long,  lonesome  years. 
When  she  died,  at  ninety-seven,  a  pleasant,  sweet- 
faced  old  lady,  praised  for  her  sunny  nature  and 
her  quiet  humor,  a  pocket-book  was  found  in  her 
possession.  Within  it  lay  a  yellow,  timeworn 
letter.  It  was  written  on  the  morning  of  the  duel, 
and  was  Hamilton's  farewell  to  his  "  beloved  wife." 


IX. 
SARAH  WISTER  AND  DEBORAH  NORRIS, 

TWO    QUAKER    FRIENDS    OF   PHILADELPHIA. 


Sarah  Wiflter  :  Born  in  Philadelphia  about  1762. 
Died  in  Philadelphia,  April  25,  1804. 


"  Her  life  must  have  been  a  joy  to  itself  and  to  others."  —  S. 
Weir  Mitchell. 


Deborah  Norris  :  Born  in  Philadelphia,  October  19,  1761. 
Died  at  Stenton,  Pennsylvania,  February  2,  1839. 


u  Her  memory  lives  on  as  a  tradition  of  charm  and  worth, 
a  lady  of  the  old  school,  a  pure,  ideal  Quakeress."  —  Sarah 
Butler   Wisier. 

Monday,  the  8th  of  July,  1776,  was  "  a  warm, 
sunshiny  day"  in  Philadelphia.  So  John  Nixon, 
one  of  the  Committee  of  Safety,  recorded  in  his 
diary. 

Sally  Wister  and  Debby  Norris  thought  it  was 
something  more,  and  they  were  very  glad  to  find 
a  cool  spot  under  the  maples  in  widow  Norris's 
pleasant  garden.  They  made  a  very  pretty  picture 
as  they  sat  and  chatted  in  the  shade  of  the  tall 
trees,    streaks     of    sunlight     flitting    across     their 

245 


246    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

flowered  petticoats  and  muslin  aprons  and  the 
white  purity  of  their  Quaker  caps  and  kerchiefs. 

Sally  was  doing  most  of  the  talking  and  most  of 
the  laughing  too,  while  Debby  listened  or  made 
bright  comments,  turning  her  delicate  oval  face 
toward  her  friend  with  a  sweet  expression  of  coun- 
tenance that  was  not  quite  a  smile.  That  half  smile 
was  one  of  Debby 's  greatest  charms. 

"  What  would  thee  do,  Debb}^,"  Sally  was  say- 
ing, "  if  the  redcoats  should  march  upon  Phila- 
delphia? Would  thee  not  be  frightened  just  to 
death  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Debby,  with  brave  spirit,  "  not 
with  our  gallant  general,  George  Washington,  near 
by  to  defend  us." 

Sally  looked  a  moment  at  her  friend  in  admira- 
tion. Then  she  shook  her  head  sadly  over  her 
own  weakness. 

"  I  fear  I  have  not  thy  courage  and  thy  confi- 
dence, Deborah,"  she  said.  "  There  is  little  of  the 
hero  in  my  composition." 

Deborah  smiled  at  this.  Sally's  self -depreciation 
was  pretty  and  amusing.  "  Why,  what  would  thee 
do,  Sally,"  she  inquired,  "if  the  British  should 
come  ?  " 

"  Do,"  exclaimed  Sally,  with  vehemence,  "I 
should  run  away  just  as  fast  as  I  could.  Dadda 
was  saying  only  this  morning  that  so  soon  as  an 
English  occupation  threatened  our  city  he  would 
pack  us  all  off  to  Aunt  Foulke's  farm  at  Gwynedd, 


SARAH   WISTER  AND  DEBORAH  NORRIS.     247 

So,"  with  a  little  shrug,  "  of  course  I  should  have 
to  go.  Thee  knows,  Debby,"  with  a  sly  look  at 
her  friend,  "  I  was  always  a  model  of  obedience." 

"  Always  —  when  thee  wished,"  responded 
Debby,  looking  quite  solemn  except  for  a  merry 
light  in  her  soft  brown  eyes.  "  So  thee  would  like 
to  leave  our  city,  Sally  Wister,  and  turn  country 
girl  ?  "  she  continued,  with  banter  in  her  tone. 

"  Thee  knows  that  I  pride  myself  on  being  a 
Philadelphian,"  retorted  Sally,  pouting.  "  'T  is 
only  my  chicken  heart  that  makes  me  wish  to  run 
away.  Don't  call  me  a  country  girl,  Debby,  or  I 
shall  tease  thee  in  return." 

'*  Thee  cannot." 

"  Oh,  but  I  can  ;  "  Sally  hesitated  a  moment,  and 
then  looked  into  Debby's  eyes  with  a  mischievous 
glance.  "Thee  cannot  guess  what  thought  did 
pop  into  my  head  just  now  when  thee  spoke  so 
proudly  of  our  brave  commander." 

"  I  '11  warrant  it  was  a  saucy  one  ;  but  tell  me  — 
I  am  prepared  for  thy  worst  impertinence." 

Sally  laughed.  "I  reflected,"  she  said,  "that 
thee  did  ever  have  a  partiality  for  Georges.  Why, 
before  ever  thee  had  heard  of  our  great  hero,  Gen- 
eral Washington,  thee  cherished  a  deep  regard  for 
another  George  who  is  now  across  the  sea." 

The  color  deepened  in  Debby's  cheeks,  but  she 
looked  steadily  ahead,  assuming  ignorance  of 
Sally's  meaning.  "  Does  thee  accuse  me  of  enter- 
taining Tory  sentiments  and  loving  the  English 


248    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

king  ?  "  she  asked  quietly.  "  I  thought  thee  knew 
me  better,  Sally  Wister." 

"  Oh,  Debby,  thee  is  a  sly  one,"  exclaimed 
Sally,  pointing  her  finger  at  her  friend  in  pretended 
shame.  "  Thee  knows  well  I  was  not  thinking  of 
King  George.  Thee  cannot  make  me  believe  that 
thee  has  forgotten  thy  old  playfellow  and  admirer, 
George  Logan.  Did  I  not  accidentally  come 
upon  thy  verses  to  '  An  Absent  Friend  '  ?  Let  me 
think  a  moment,"  with  a  furtive  glance  at  Debby 
that  told  her  she  was  successful  in  her  teasing, 
"  perhaps  I  can  recall  them  to  thee  if  thee  has  for- 
gotten them." 

Debby's  cheeks  were  quite  scarlet  now  and  there 
was  an  angry  flash  in  her  eyes  as  she  put  her  hand 
quickly  over  Sally's  offending  lips. 

"Be  quiet,  thee  hussy,"  she  said  in  a  tone  of 
surprising  gentleness.  She  had  gained  early  that 
outward  calm  which  Quakerism  taught.  "  Thy 
tongue  has  run  away  with  thee,  and  has  carried 
thee  too  far." 

Sally  immediately  divined  that  Debby  was  a  little 
cross  with  her  and  she  looked  tremulously  at  her 
friend.  Her  lovely  round  blue  eyes  were  always 
on  the  verge  of  tears  or  laughter,  and  now  it  was 
tears.  So  Debby  could  no  longer  be  angry  with 
her  and  the  sweet  half  smile  came  back  to  Debby's 
face. 

"  I  think  it  is  about  time  to  talk  of  Sally's  ad- 
mirers," she  said. 


SARAH   WISTER  AND  DEBORAH  NORRIS.     249 

Sally  dropped  her  eyes  demurely.  "  How  can 
we  ?  "  she  asked.  "  There  are  none  to  be  talked 
of.  Why,  Sally  has  not  charms  enough  to  pierce 
the  softest  heart." 

Debby  pulled  one  of  Sally's  dark  red  curls  by 
way  of  contradiction.  "  Thee  does  not  really  think 
that,"  she  protested,  "  for  thee  is  not  without  thy 
proper  share  of  vanity,  I  know,  and  thee  cannot 
help  seeing  that  all  the  world  loves  thee.  Of 
course  it  does.  Why,  Sally,  a  stoic  could  not  re- 
sist so  gay  and  sweet  a  girl  as  thee." 

Sally  put  one  arm  about  her  friend's  neck. 
"  Debby,"  she  said,  "  thee  will  spoil  me.  Thee  has 
ever  been  too  partial  to  thy  naughty  Sally.  But 
hark,"  she  added  with  a  sudden  start,  "  does  thee 
not  hear  the  sounds  of  fife  and  drum  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Debby,  listening,  "they  come 
from  the  State  House  square  and  now  I  do  remem- 
ber to  have  heard  Mr.  Hancock  tell  my  mother, 
some  evenings  ago,  that  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence was  to  be  proclaimed  publicly  from  the 
State  House,  at  noon  to-day.  We  must  hear  what 
we  can  of  it." 

"  Yes,  let  us  hurry,"  exclaimed  Sally.  "  There 
will  be  a  crowd  and  perhaps  some  fun." 

So  the  girls  ran  across  the  lawn  to  the  furthest 
corner  of  the  garden  and  climbing  upon  a  big 
wheelbarrow  that  stood  there,  they  peered  over  the 
wall  at  Fifth  and  Chestnut  streets.  The  crowd 
which  they  saw  in   the    square  was   neither  very 


250    COLONIAL    DAMES    ANT)    DAUGHTERS. 

large  nor  very  well  dressed  ;  many  of  the  "  most 
respectable  citizens  "  were  doubtful  and  fearful  of 
this  daring  Declaration,  and  would  not  be  present 
at  its  reading.  The  members  of  the  Congress 
whom  they  saw  standing  in  the  State  House  yard, 
upon  what  John  Adams  afterwards  described  as 
"  the  awful  platform,"  looked  anxious  and  "  op- 
pressed by  the  sense  of  consequences."  The  reader, 
John  Nixon,  they  could  not  see,  for  a  slight  struct- 
ure in  the  square  hid  him  from  their  view.  But 
clinging  to  the  garden  wall,  only  half  understand- 
ing all  that  it  meant,  the  girls  heard  the  mighty 
words  of  the  Declaration;  and,  as  they  listened 
eagerly,  a  feeling  of  intense  enthusiasm  came  over 
them  and  impelled  them  to  join  in  the  "  cheers  and 
repeated  huzzas  "  that  greeted  the  closing  words  of 
the  invisible  speaker  —  "  We  mutually  pledge  to 
each  other  our  lives,  our  fortune,  and  our  sacred 
honor." 

The  memory  of  that  hot  noontide  was  one  to 
last  a  lifetime ;  and  it  did.  When  one  of  the 
girls  who  listened  from  widow  Norris's  garden 
wall  had  long  been  dead,  the  other,  a  beautiful, 
dignified  old  lady,  loved  to  recall  how  she  had  been 
an  ear-witness  at  that  first  reading  of  the  Declara- 
tion. 

The  reading  of  the  Declaration  was  one  of  many 
stirring  events  that  took  place  in  and  about  Phila- 
delphia that  memorable  year  of  1776-'77.  Debby 
and  Sally  had  much  to  interest  and  excite  them. 


SARAH   WISTER  AND  DEBORAH  NORRIS.     251 

They  were  living  in  a  troubled  country,  of  which 
their  city  was  the  centre,  and  with  doubts  and 
tremors,  a  few  for  Debby  and  many  for  the 
"  chicken-hearted "  Sally,  they  watched  the  war 
closing  in  upon  them. 

After  the  battle  of  Brandywine,  when  the 
British  occupation  of  Philadelphia  became  evident, 
Sally's  father,  Daniel  Wister,  "  packed  off "  his 
family  to  the  Gwynedd  farm  in  Montgomery 
County.  Thus  it  was  that  Sally,  just  as  she  had 
predicted,  ran  away  from  the  redcoats. 

While  Sally  was  living  the  life  of  a  country 
girl,  separated  from  her  city  friends,  she  kept  a 
journal  which  all  agree  is  one  of  the  most  charming 
on  record.  This  journal  she  dedicated  to  "  Deborah 
Norris,"  hoping  "the  perusal  of  it,"  as  she  writes, 
"  might  give  pleasure  in  a  solitary  hour." 

One  fancies  Deborah  "perusing"  it  in  many  a 
"  solitary  hour,"  first  while  she  was  still  a  girl, 
smiling  over  its  jokes  and  stories,  its  sweet  and 
frank  confessions,  and  later,  after  many  years,  read- 
ing it  with  full  eyes,  calling  up  a  picture  of  the  dear 
lost  friend,  seeing  again  the  rosy  dimpled  cheeks, 
the  pretty  hair  of  reddish  tint,  and  the  big,  wonder- 
ful, child-like  eyes.  Sally  lives  again  in  the  pages 
of  her  lively  diary  and  we  who  read  it  so  long  after 
find  it  as  impossible  to  think  of  the  gay  young 
Quakeress  as  dead  as  did  her  friend  Deborah,  or 
the  hero  of  Mr.  Mitchell's  splendid  story,  the  gallant 
Hugh  Wynne. 


252    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

When  Sally  first  introduces  herself  to  ns  through 
the  medium  of  her  journal  she  is  in  a  very  uneasy 
state  of  mind.  She  is  still  fearing  a  British  inva- 
sion. The  sound  of  passing  troops  scares  her 
"  mightily,"  she  writes,  and  the  sight  of  a  uniform 
"  tacks  wings  to  her  feet."  She  is  sure  every  soldier 
she  sees  wears  a  red  jacket.  But  finding  that  the 
roads  around  the  Gwynedd  farm  are  held  by  the 
ragged  rebels  and  not  the  dreaded  redcoats,  she 
grows  braver.  Finally,  after  the  battle  of  German- 
town,  hearing  that  Washington  is  marching  with 
his  army  down  the  Shippack  and  Morris  roads  to 
take  up  headquarters  at  the  home  of  James  Morris, 
she  ventures  to  go,  early  in  the  morning  before 
breakfast,  with  her  younger  sister  Betsey  and  her 
kinsman,  George  Emlen,  about  a  half  mile  from 
home  to  see  the  troops  pass.  We  can  picture  her 
in  the  bright  morning  light,  hanging  on  her  kins- 
man's arm,  peering,  flush-cheeked  and  eager-eyed, 
at  the  soldiers  as  they  pass  by.  Many  a  smart 
young  officer  must  have  turned  more  than  once  to 
glance  at  the  sweet,  merry  face  under  the  Quaker 
bonnet. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  Sally's  adventures. 
In  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  came  another, 
more  exciting  than  the  first.  Sally  was  sitting  on 
the  porch  of  the  Gwynedd  farmhouse  with  her 
Aunt  Foulke  and  her  cousin  Pris,  when  into  the 
yard  rode  "  two  genteel  gentlemen  of  the  military 
order."     "  Your  servants,  ladies,"  they  said.    They 


SARAH   WIS  TEE  AND  DEBORAH  N  ORRIS.     253 

then  asked  if  they  could  have  quarters  for  General 
Smallwood.  "  Aunt  Foulke  "  thought  she  was 
able  to  "  accommodate  "  them  as  well  as  "  the  most 
of  her  neighbors,"  so  she  told  them  they  could. 
Thereupon  one  of  the  officers  dismounted  and  wrote 
"  Small  wood's  Quarters  "  over  the  door,  "  which 
secured  us,"  remarks  Sally,  "  from  straggling  sol- 
diers." Having  taken  possession,  as  it  were,  in  this 
brief  fashion,  the  officer  mounted  his  steed  and  he 
and  his  companion  rode  away. 

Imagine  the  excitement  of  Sally  and  the  rest  of 
the  young  feminine  faction  of  the  farm  over  this 
great  event.  A  house  full  of  soldiers  meant  fun 
for  the  girls.  With  delightful  candor  Sally  informs 
us  that  they  straightway  put  themselves  "in  order 
for  conquest,"  and  "  the  hopes  of  adventures,"  she 
says,  "  gave  brightness  to  each  before  passive  coun- 
tenance." 

We  will  let  Sally  herself  tell  of  the  arrival  of 
General  Smallwood  of  the  Maryland  line.  No 
other  pen  can  do  it  justice. 

"  In  the  evening,"  she  writes,  "  his  Generalship 
came  with  six  attendants  which  composed  his 
family.  A  large  guard  of  soldiers,  a  number  of 
horses  and  baggage-wagons,  the  yard  and  house  in 
confusion  and  glittering  with  military  equipments." 
(Poor  Aunt  Foulke  !  One  wonders  if  she  relished 
this  friendly  invasion  as  much  as  the  girls.) 
"  There  was  much  running  up  and  down  of  stairs, 
so  I  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  and  being  seen." 


254   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

(Artful  Sally!)  "One  person  in  particular  at- 
tracted my  notice.  He  appeared  cross  and  reserved  ; 
but  thee  shall  hear  how  agreeably  disappointed  I 
was."  (Thee  shall,  indeed.)  "  Dr.  Gould  ushered 
the  gentlemen  into  our  parlor  and  introduced  them. 
Be  assured  that  I  did  not  stay  long  with  so  many 
men,  but  secured  a  good  retreat,  heart-safe,  so  far. 
They  retired  about  ten  in  good  order.  How  new 
is  our  situation  !  I  feel  in  good  spirits  though  sur- 
rounded by  an  army,  the  house  full  of  officers,  the 
yard  alive  with  soldiers,  —  very  peaceful  sort  of 
people,  tho'.  They  eat  like  other  folks,  talk  like 
them,  and  behave  themselves  with  elegance,  so  I 
will  not  be  afraid  of  them,  that  I  won't.  Adieu,  I 
am  going  to  my  chamber  to  dream,  I  suppose,  of 
bayonets  and  swords,  sashes,  guns,  and  epaulets." 

After  that  evening's  introduction  Sally's  fear  of 
the  military  completely  vanished.  She  was  soon 
on  friendly  terms  with  the  general  and  his  "  family  " 
and  she  has  left  vivid  pictures  of  them  all.  But 
the  one  who  interested  her  most,  he  whom  she  at 
first  thought  "  cross  and  reserved "  and  in  whom 
she  was  so  "  agreeably  disappointed,"  was  young 
Major  Stoddard,  a  boy  officer,  some  three  or  four 
years  older  than  Sally  herself.  Hear  what  she  has 
to  say  of  him.  "  Well,  here  comes  the  glory,  the 
major,  so  bashful,  so  famous,  etc.  He  is  about 
nineteen,  nephew  to  the  general,  and  acts  as  major 
of  brigade  to  him ;  he  cannot  be  extolled  for  graces 
of   person,   but    for  those   of   the   mind   he    may 


SARAH   WISTER  AND  DEBORAH  NORRIS.     255 

justly  be  celebrated ;  he  is  large  in  his  person, 
manly  and  engaging  in  countenance  and  address. 
.  .  .  I  have  heard  strange  things  of  the  major. 
With  a  fortune  of  thirty  thousand  pounds,  inde- 
pendent of  anybody,  the  major  is  vastly  bashful ; 
so  much  so  that  he  can  hardly  look  at  the  ladies. 
(Excuse  me,  good  sir ;  I  really  thought  you  were 
not  clever ;  if  'tis  bashfulness  only,  will  drive  that 
away.)  " 

The  progress  of  Sally's  friendship  with  the 
major  is  very  interesting.  Fifth  day,  Sixth  day 
and  Seventh  day  passed,  she  reports,  with  the  major 
"  still  bashful."  But  on  the  evening  of  First  day 
she  had  a  long  talk  with  him.  It  was  Sally's  little 
brother  Johnny  who  helped  to  bring  them  together. 
Sally  was  "  diverting  "  Johnny  at  the  table,  when 
the  major  "  drew  his  chair  to  it  and  began  to  play 
with  the  child."  Soon  Johnny  was  forgotten  and 
Sally  and  the  major  were  engaged  in  a  most  agree- 
able conversation.  "  We  chatted  a  great  part  of 
the  evening,"  writes  Sally.  "  He  said  he  knew  me 
directly  as  he  had  seen  me.  Told  me  exactly 
where  we  lived." 

The  entries  in  Sally's  journal  for  the  next  few 
days  show  that  she  and  the  major  were  not  slow  to 
improve  on  their  acquaintance.  Second  day  she 
records :  "  Dr.  Diggs  came,  a  mighty  disagreeable 
man.  We  were  obliged  to  ask  him  to  tea.  He 
must  needs  pop  himself  down  between  the  major 
and  me,  for  which  I  did  not  thank  him.     After  I 


256    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

had  drank  tea,  I  jumped  from  the  table  and  seated 
myself  at  the  fire.  The  major  followed  my  example, 
drew  his  chair  close  to  mine,  and  entertained  me 
very  agreeably."  On  Thursday  she  writes :  "  The 
major  and  I  had  a  little  chat  to  ourselves  this  eve. 
No  harm,  I  assure  thee ;  he  and  I  are  friends." 
Here  one  cannot  but  wonder  was  Sally  in  earnest, 
or  was  she  trying  to  conceal  something  under  the 
word  "  friends  "  ?  Somehow  the  platonic  title  does 
not  seem  suited  to  "  naughty  Sally,"  for  we  fear 
she  was  a  little  of  a  flirt. 

Thus  during  a  week  or  more  Sally's  journal  is 
filled  with  dissertations  on  the  major  and  his 
charms  —  his  "  amiable  manners,"  his  "  sense," 
his  "  lively  and  agreeable  conversation,"  and  reports 
of  his  tete-a-tete  chats  with  Sally.  At  last  Mis- 
tress Sally  has  to  laugh  at  herself  for  talking  so 
much  about  him.  "  Well,"  she  declares,  "  thee 
will  think  I  am  writing  his  history." 

When  Sally  is  not  talking  of  the  major  she  is 
talking  of  the  other  officers.  And  yet,  as  much  as 
she  has  to  say  about  them,  she  implies  that  she  has 
left  the  best  unsaid.  "  Oh,  Debby,"  she  writes,  "  I 
have  a  thousand  things  to  tell  thee.  I  shall  give 
thee  so  droll  an  account  of  my  adventures  that  thee 
will  smile.  'No  occasion  of  that,  Sally,'  methinks 
I  hear  thee  say,  '  for  thee  tells  me  every  trifle.' 
But,  child,  thee  is  mistaken,  for  I  have  not  told 
thee  half  the  civil  things  that  are  said  of  us  sweet 
creatures  at  General  Small  wood's  Quarters." 


SARAH    V/ISTER  AND  DEBORAH  NORRIS.     257 

It  was  hard  upon  the  "  sweet  creatures  at  Gen- 
eral Smallwood's  Quarters,"  and  the  officers  there 
too,  that  the  exigencies  of  war  had  to  come  to  in- 
terrupt their  pleasant  intercourse.  They  were  just 
in  the  midst  of  a  most  delightful  acquaintance 
when  orders  arrived  for  the  army  to  march.  The 
play-day  was  over.  No  wonder  that  Sally  was 
"sorry,"  and  that  the  major  looked  "dull." 

But  there  was  one  more  good  time  to  occur  be- 
fore the  adieus  were  said.  This  came  on  a  First-day 
afternoon.  We  have  a  picture  of  Sally  in  a  white 
muslin  gown,  "  quite  as  nice  as  a  First-day  in  town," 
big  bonnet,  and  long  gloves,  walking  demurely 
down  the  garden  walk  accompanied  by  sister  Betsey 
and  cousin  Liddy.  On  the  porch  a  group  of 
officers  were  standing,  and  a  little  apart,  their  eyes 
fixed  on  the  retreating  figures  of  the  girls,  were  the 
Majors  Stoddard  and  Leatherberry.  To  Major 
Stoddard  Sally  has  introduced  us  at  length.  Of 
Major  Leatherberry  she  had  less  to  say ;  but  that 
little  was  to  the  point.  "  A  sensible  fellow  who 
will  not  swing  for  want  of  a  tongue,"  was  her  ver- 
dict on  him,  and  in  that  agreeable  character  Major 
Leatherberry   appears  before  us. 

The  girls  walking  slowly  down  the  path  turned 
into  the  road  at  the  garden  edge,  and  then  Sally, 
as  she  herself  confesses,  "looked  back;"  she  saw 
the  majors  and  her  glance  told  her  that  they  were 
debating  coining  after.  Cousin  Liddy  must  have 
peeped    too,  for  she    said,    "  We  shall   have  their 


258    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

attendance."  But  Sally  was  coy  and  shook  her 
head  as  if  she  had  doubts. 

However,  Liddy  was  right.  The  majors  must 
have  found  Sally's  backward  glance  enough  of  an 
invitation,  for  they  were  soon  beside  the  girls,  salut- 
ing and  inquiring  politely,  "  Have  we  your  per_ 
mission  to  attend  you,  ladies  ?  "  The  girls  did  not 
say  no.  Indeed,  we  can  imagine  their  smiling 
acquiescence. 

Then  followed  a  long  walk  through  the  woods, 
where  the  trees  shone  red  and  gold  in  the  charm- 
ing autumn  weather  and  along  the  banks  of  the 
lovely  Wissahickon  River,  whose  waters,  swollen 
by  recent  rains,  were  too  deep  for  them  to  cross. 
Sally  tells  us  that  they  shortened  the  way  with 
"  lively  conversation  "  and  that  nothing  happened 
during  their  "  little  excursion "  but  what  was 
"  entirely  consistent  with  the  strictest  rules  of 
politeness  and  decorum."  She  probably  knew  it 
would  please  her  Debby  to  hear  she  had  been  so 
proper. 

That  country  ramble  as  reflected  through  the 
pages  of  Sally's  journal  is  a  very  real  and  vivid 
part  of  the  past.  We  who  read  forget  to-day 
and  see  only  visions  of  that  gay  young  company  of 
long  ago.  Now  Major  Stoddard  is  helping  Mis- 
tress Sally  over  the  rough  places  in  the  road  and 
trying  to  console  her  as  she  stands  pouting  over 
the  tear  in  her  muslin  gown.  Now  Major  Leather- 
berry  is  glancing  down  at  the  locket  which  Sally 


SARAH   WISTER  AND  DEBORAH  NORRIS.     259 

wore  about  her  neck  and  with  subtle  flattery  quot- 
ing the  lines  — 

"•  On  her  white  breast  a  sparkling  cross  she  wore, 
That  Jews  might  kiss  and  infidels  adore." 

And  Mistress  Sally  is  accepting  all  their  gallantry 
with  pretty  matter-of-factness  and  a  charming  air 
of  condescension. 

That  was  the  last  good  time  for  several  weeks 
which  the  girls  and  rebel  officers  enjoyed  together. 
On  the  very  next  day  came  the  parting.  Sally 
and  Major  Stoddard  seem  to  have  been  the  saddest 
upon  that  occasion.  "  Our  hearts  were  very  full," 
writes  Sally.  "  I  thought  the  major  was  affected." 
His  "  Good-by,  Miss  Sally,"  was  spoken  "  very 
low."  Sally,  "  feeling  sober,"  as  she  expresses  it, 
stood  at  the  door  and  watched  the  major  ride  away 
until  the  road  "  hid  him  "  from  her  sight.  At  the 
end  of  that  day  she  records,  "  We  are  very  still. 
No  rattling  of  wagons,  no  glittering  of  muskets. 
The  beating  of  the  distant  drum  is  all  we  hear." 

During  the  next  few  weeks  there  was  much 
skirmishing  in  the  near  neighborhood  of  the  Gwyn- 
edd  farm.  The  British  had  left  Philadelphia  and 
were  moving  against  Washington's  position  at 
Whitemarsh.  Sally  and  her  people  lived  in  per- 
petual dread  of  an  engagement.  But  Sally  sur- 
prised herself  by  her  own  courage.  "  'T  is  amazing 
how  we  get  reconciled  to  such  things,"  she  writes. 
"  Six  months  ago  the  bare  idea  of  being  within  ten, 


260    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

aye,  twenty  miles  of  a  battle  would  almost  have 
distracted  me.  And  now,  though  two  such  large 
armies  are  within  six  miles  of  us,  we  can  converse 
calmly  of  it." 

However,  Sally  could  not  always  feel  brave. 
The  memories  of  the  "horrors  of  Germantown" 
and  the  thought  of  another  such  battle  sometimes 
filled  her  with  alarm  and  brought  on  "  despondent 
fits."  One  evening  she  was  sitting  in  the  parlor 
indulging  in  one  of  these  melancholy  moods,  "  when 
some  one  burst  open  the  door"  and  exclaimed, 
"  Sally !  here  's  Major  Stoddard."  But  it  was  a  very 
different  Major  Stoddard  from  the  one  who  had 
left  her  a  short  time  before.  He  was  no  longer 
"lively,  alert,  and  blooming."  Sally  found  him 
reclining  in  Aunt  Foulke's  parlor,  "  pale,  thin,  and 
dejected,  too  weak  to  rise."  "  The  poor  fellow," 
Sally  explains,  "  from  great  fatigue  and,  want  of 
rest,  together  with  being  exposed  to  the  night  air, 
had  caught  cold,  which  brought  on  a  fever."  Sally 
would  not  stay  long  to  talk  with  him,  being,  as  she 
said,  "  not  willing  to  fatigue  him." 

The  major  mended  slowly.  Yet  in  spite  of  his 
illness  his  friends  could  not  keep  him  quiet.  At 
the  first  sound  of  any  firing  he  was  on  his  feet, 
giving  orders  to  saddle  his  horse,  that  he  might  be 
off  fighting  beside  his  comrades.  His  position  of 
forced  inactivity  was  a  hard  one  for  so  brave  a 
soldier.  He  could  not  act,  he  could  only  think ; 
and  the  thoughts  of  a  rebel  officer,  during  the  dis- 


SARAH   WISTER  AND  DEBORAH  NORRIS.     261 

couraging  winter  of  '77-78,  were  not  always  happy. 
Indeed,  they  were  enough  to  make  even  a  boy  of 
nineteen,  like  the  major,  serious.  And  the  major 
was  serious  often.  Sally  tells  us  that  he  was 
"  sometimes  silent  for  minutes,"  and  that  after  one 
of  these  "  silent  fits"  he  would  clasp  his  hands  and 
exclaim  aloud :  "  Oh,  my  God !  I  wish  this  war 
was  at  an  end." 

Sally  pitied  the  major  "  mightily  "  and  did  her 
best  to  cheer  him.  In  fact,  she  took  so  great  an 
interest  in  his  welfare  that  "  the  saucy  creatures," 
Betsey  and  Liddy,  began  to  tease  her  about  him. 
Those  foolish  girls  "  are  forever  metamorphosing 
mole-hills  into  mountains,"  says  Sally.  And  just 
because  of  a  harmless  little  question  she  once  put 
to  the  major  they  declared  she  had  shown  a 
"  strong  partiality  for  him." 

Sally  laughs  at  the  charge.  With  her  usual 
coyness  she  continues  in  her  assertion  that  she  and 
the  major  are  only  "  friends  "  and  she  gayly  nar- 
rates the  story  of  how  she  came  to  ask  the  tell-tale 
question. 

"  In  the  afternoon  we  heard  platoon-firing,"  she 
writes.  "Everybody  was  at  the  door,  I  in  the 
horrors.  The  armies,  as  we  judged,  were  engaged. 
Very  composedly  says  the  major  to  our  servant, 
'  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  saddle  my  horse  ?  I 
shall  go.'  Accordingly  the  horse  was  taken  from 
the  quiet,  hospitable  barn  to  plunge  into  the  thick- 
est ranks  of  war.     Cruel  change.     Seaton  (one  of 


262   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

the  many  officers  who  was  stopping  at  Aunt 
Foulke's)  insisted  to  the  major  that  the  armies 
were  still ;  '  nothing  but  skirmishing  with  the 
flanking  parties  ;  do  not  go.'  We  happened  (we 
girls,  I  mean)  to  be  standing  in  the  kitchen,  the 
major  passing  through  in  a  hurry,  and  I,  forsooth, 
discovered  a  strong  partiality  by  saying,  '  Oh,  major, 
thee  is  not  going  ?  '  He  turned  around,  '  Yes,  I 
am,  Miss  Sally,'  bowed,  and  went  into  the  road. 
We  all  pitied  him  ;  the  firing  rather  decreased,  and 
after  persuasions  innumerable  from  my  father  and 
Seaton,  and  the  firing  over,  he  reluctantly  agreed 
to  stay.  Ill  as  he  was,  he  would  have  gone.  It 
showed  his  bravery,  of  which  we  always  believed 
him  possessed  of  a  large  share." 

Sally's  story  brings  the  scene  very  vividly  before 
us.  We  seem  to  see  the  broad,  low-studded  kitchen 
with  its  generous  fireplace  and  its  small-paned 
windows  through  which  one  may  discern  glimpses 
of  pleasant  meadow-land  and  wooded  hill-slopes 
—  a  peaceful  sight ;  but  the  sound  of  distant  can- 
nonading heard  in  the  room  dispels  all  thoughts 
of  peace.  There,  near  the  other  girls,  stands  Sally, 
clad  in  short  gown  and  apron  and  the  pretty  Quaker 
cap  and  kerchief.  A  mist  of  startled  pity  gathers 
in  her  wide  blue  eyes  as  she  beholds  the  major,  still 
pale  and  weak,  but  dressed  for  battle,  hurrying 
through  the  room.  With  sweet  entreaty  in  her 
tone  she  asks  the  question  and  he,  stopping  his 
quick  step  and  turning  toward  her,  meets  her  glance 


SARAH   WISTER   AND  DEBORAH  NORRIS.     263 

with  eyes  that  express  gratitude  for  her  interest  and 
sympathy.  Surely  the  interest  and  sympathy  of  a 
girl  like  Sally  must  have  made  it  easier  for  a  soldier 
to  be  brave. 

It  should  not  be  supposed,  however,  because 
Sally  was  kind  to  the  major  that  she  was  the  same 
to  all  men  who  wore  a  uniform.  At  times  she 
could  be  quite  severe.  She  studied  the  faults  as 
well  as  the  virtues  of  the  "  unfair  "  sex,  and  loved 
to  philosophize  upon  them.  Vanity  she  considered 
among  the  chief  of  their  sins.  "  I  really  am  of  the 
opinion,"  she  writes,  "  that  there  are  few  of  the 
young  fellows  of  the  modern  age  exempt  from  van- 
ity, more  especially  those  who  are  blessed  with 
exterior  graces.  If  they  have  a  fine  pair  of  eyes, 
they  are  forever  rolling  them  about ;  a  fine  set  of 
teeth  —  mind,  they  are  great  laughers  ;  a  genteel 
person  —  forever  changing  their  attitudes  to  show 
them  to  advantage.  Oh,  vanity,  vanity,  how  bound- 
less is  thy  sway  !  " 

Sally  was  also  very  critical  of  men  who  talked  of 
eating.  Two  Virginia  lieutenants  aroused  her 
displeasure  by  discussing  turkey  hash  and  fried 
hominy  —  "A  pretty  discourse  to  entertain  ladies," 
she  remarks  with  scorn.  From  her  own  confession 
we  must  believe  that  she  was  rather  hard  upon 
those  Virginia  lieutenants.  She  laughed  at  them, 
she  says,  "  ridiculed  their  manner  of  speaking,"  and 
"  took  a  great  delight  in  teasing  them.  I  believe  I 
did  it  sometimes  ill-naturedly."     Well,  if  that  was 


264    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

the  way  Mistress  Sally  behaved  the  two  lieuten- 
ants cannot  have  been  very  sorry  to  take  their 
leave  of  the  charming,  witty,  sharp-tongued  little 
Quakeress. 

Many  officers  had  come  and  gone,  the  major  had 
recovered  his  health,  gone  to  camp,  and  returned 
to  the  farm  again,  and  it  was  nearing  Christmas 
time,  when  the  best  frolic  of  the  year  occurred. 
It  was  the  figure  of  the  British  grenadier  that  did 
it  —  the  British  grenadier  and  the  mischievous  wits 
of  Major  Stoddard  and  the  girls. 

This  is  the  way  it  came  about.  One  morning 
Sally  was  sitting  darning  an  apron  in  her  aunt's 
parlor  with  the  other  girls  when  Major  Stoddard 
entered.  Seating  himself  near  Sally,  he  began 
complimenting  her  on  her  sewing  and  chatting  with 
her  on  various  subjects.  "  We  were  very  witty 
and  sprightly,"  writes  Sally. 

Finally  they  fell  to  talking  of  what  they  would 
do  if  the  British  should  come  to  the  farm,  and  the 
major  laughingly  declared  that  he  would  escape  the 
enemy's  rage  by  getting  behind  the  representation 
of  a  British  grenadier  that  stood  in  the  hall-way 
upstairs.  Then  suddenly  the  idea  came  to  him 
that  it  would  be  a  good  joke  to  play  a  trick  on 
u  Tilly,"  one  of  his  fellow-officers,  with  this  same 
British,  grenadier.  He  immediately  told  Sally  and 
the  other  girls  what  he  wanted,  and  they,  always 
ready  for  a  lark,  promised  their  assistance.  "  If 
thee  will  take  all  the  blame,  major,"  they  said,  hold- 


SARAH    WISTER  AND  DEBORAH  NORRIS.     265 

ing  back  a  little.  "  That  I  will,"  replied  the  major, 
gallantly.     And  thereupon  they  all  began  to  plot. 

They  waited  for  the  evening  to  carry  out  their 
scheme  against  the  unfortunate  Tilly.  After  tea, 
while  all  the  officers  but  Major  Stoddard  were 
closeted  in  one  room,  chatting  merrily  on  public 
affairs,  the  British  grenadier,  who,  by  the  way,  was 
a  tall,  imposing  individual  of  six  feet,  was  stationed 
in  the  lower  hall  by  the  door  that  led  into  the 
road.  A  servant  was  put  behind  him  to  act  as  his 
mouthpiece.  Another  figure  and  more  servants 
were  prepared  to  serve  as  occasion  required.  And 
finally  all  swords  and  pistols  were  secured  so  that, 
in  the  general  confusion  that  must  follow,  there 
would  be  no  arms  with  which  to  kill  the  innocent 
and  unoffending  British  grenadier.  When  all  was 
ready  the  girls  retired  to  the  first  landing  on  the 
stairs  and  Major  Stoddard  went  to  join  the  other 
officers. 

One  of  the  officers,  Seaton,  being  "  indisposed," 
had  been  taken  into  the  secret  and  it  was  his  negro 
boy  who,  candle  in  hand,  opened  the  door  of  the 
room  where  all  the  officers  were  gathered  and  said, 
"  There  's  somebody  at  the  door  that  wishes  to  see 
you." 

We  will  let  Sally  tell  the  rest  of  the  story. 
"  They  all  rose,"  she  writes,  "  and  walked  into  the 
entry,  Tilly  first  in  full  expectation  of  news.  The 
first  object  that  struck  his  view  was  a  British 
soldier.     In  a  moment  his  ears  were  saluted,  '  Are 


266    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

there  any  rebel  officers  here  ? '  in  a  thundering 
voice.  Not  waiting  for  a  second  word,  he  darted 
like  lightning  out  of  the  front  door,  through  the 
yard,  bolted  over  the  fence.  Swamps,  fences, 
thorn-hedges,  and  ploughed  fields  no  way  impeded 
his  retreat.  He  was  soon  out  of  hearing.  The 
woods  echoed  with,  'Which  way  did  he  go?  Stop 
him.  Surround  the  house.'  The  amiable  Liscomb 
had  his  hand  on  the  latch  of  the  door,  intending  to 
make  his  escape.  Stoddard,  considering  his  indis- 
position, acquainted  him  with  the  deceit.  We 
females  ran  downstairs  to  join  in  the  general 
laugh.  I  walked  into  Jesse's  [her  cousin's]  parlor. 
There  sat  poor  Stoddard  almost  convulsed  with 
laughter,  rolling  in  an  arm-chair.  He  said  nothing ; 
I  believe  he  could  not  have  spoke.  '  Major  Stod- 
dard,' said  I,  '  go  to  call  Tilly  back.  He  will  lose 
himself,  indeed  he  will,'  every  word  interrupted 
with  a  c  ha  !  ha  !  '  At  last  he  rose  and  went  to  the 
door,  and  what  a  loud  voice  could  avail  in  bring- 
ing him  back  he  tried.  Figure  to  thyself  this 
Tilly,  of  a  snowy  evening,  no  hat,  shoes  down  at 
the  heel,  hair  unty'd,  flying  across  meadows,  creeks, 
and  mud  holes.  Flying  from  what  ?  Why,  a  bit  of 
painted  wood. 

"  After  a  while,  being  in  more  composure,  and 
our  bursts  of  laughter  less  frequent,  yet  by  no 
means  subsided,  —  in  full  assembly  of  girls  and  offi- 
cers, —  Tilly  entered.  The  greater  part  of  my 
risibility  turned  to  pity.     Inexpressible  confusion 


SARAH   WISTER   AND  DEBORAH  N0RR1S.     267 

had  taken  entire  possession  of  his  countenance,  his 
fine  hair  hanging  dishevell'd  down  his  shoulders, 
all  splashed  with  mud ;  yet  his  bright  confusion 
and  race  had  not  divested  him  of  his  beauty.  He 
smil'd  as  he  tripped  up  the  steps,  but  'twas  vexa- 
tion plac'd  it  on  his  features.  Joy  at  that  moment 
was  banished  from  his  heart.  He  briskly  walked 
five  or  six  steps,  then  stopped  and  took  a  general 
survey  of  us  all.  '  Where  have  you  been,  Mr. 
Tilly  ?  '  ask'd  one  officer.  (We  girls  were  silent.) 
4 1  really  imagind,'  said  Major  Stoddard,  4  that  you 
were  gone  for  your  pistols  ;  I  followed  you  to  pre- 
vent danger,'  —  an  excessive  laugh  at  each  ques- 
tion, which  it  was  impossible  to  restrain.  '  Pray 
where  were  your  pistols,  Tilly  ?  ' " 

Then  it  was,  we  learn,  that  the  long-suffering 
Tilly  broke  his  silence  with  the  following  emphatic 
ejaculation :  "  You  may  all  go  to  the  devil !  " 

Sally,  who  doubtless  thought  it  necessary  to 
apologize  for  that  awful  swear-word,  tells  us  that 
never  before  had  she  heard  Mr.  Tilly  utter  an  "  in- 
decent expression."  Probably  the  poor  man  had 
never  been  so  grievously  provoked.  We  can  hardly 
blame  him  for  his  one  profanity.  Indeed,  we  can 
only  congratulate  him  on  his  good  nature,  which, 
we  are  glad  to  hear,  "  gained  a  complete  ascendence 
over  his  anger  "  and  permitted  him  to  join  "  heartily 
in  the  laugh." 

This  escapade  with  the  British  grenadier  hap- 
pened on  the  night  before  Major  Stoddard's  final 


268    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

departure.  The  next  morning  Sally  and  the  major 
said  good-by  "  for  months,  perhaps  for  years,"  still 
only  "  friends,"  we  are  to  suppose.  After  the  part- 
ing was  over  Sally  recorded  in  her  journal,  —  rather 
sentimentally,  it  seems,  for  one  who  "  thanked  her 
good  fortune  she  was  not  made  of  susceptibilities," 
—  "  He  has  gone,  I  saw  him  pass  the  bridge.  The 
woods  which  you  enter  immediately  after  crossing 
it  hinder'd  us  from  following  him  further.  I  seem 
to  fancy  he  will  return  in  the  evening." 

Soon  after  the  major  went  the  other  officers  were 
obliged  to  leave  also.  The  army  was  moving  into 
winter  quarters  at  Valley  Forge.  "  We  shall  not 
see  many  of  the  military  now,"  Sally  writes  discon- 
solately ;  "  we  shall  be  very  intimate  with  solitude. 
I  fear  stupidity  will  be  a  frequent  guest." 

By  way  of  a  pleasant  interruption,  however,  to 
the  "  stupidity  "  that  followed  the  departure  of  "  the 
military,"  Sally  spent  a  week  visiting  her  friend 
Polly  Fishburn,  at  Whitemarsh,  a  few  miles  distant. 

She  went  over  bad  roads  on  horseback  and  re- 
turned over  worse  roads  in  a  jolting  sleigh.  The 
days  of  easy  travelling  had  not  yet  arrived. 

While  Sally  was  at  Whitemarsh  she  and  Polly 
read  Fielding's  "  Joseph  Andrews "  and  the 
"  Lady's  Magazine  "  together,  they  went  driving, 
and  one  evening  they  entertained  two  dragoons  of 
the  Virginia  and  Maryland  cavalry.  On  a  Sunday 
afternoon  they  "  ascended  the  barren  hills  of  White- 
marsh," Sally  tells  us,  "from  the  tops  of  which  we 


SARAH   WISTER  AND  DEBORAH  N ORRIS.     269 

had  an  extensive  prospect  of  the  country  round. 
The  traces  of  the  army  which  encamped  on  these 
hills  are  very  visible,  rugged  huts,  imitations  of 
chimneys,  and  many  other  ruinous  objects  which 
plainly  showed  they  had  been  there." 

But  it  was  not  until  the  winter  had  passed  and 
the  long  June  days  had  come  that  Sally  met  with 
any  more  "  capital  adventures."  Of  course  Sally's 
"capital  adventures"  always  implied  an  officer; 
and  the  officer  who  now  came  to  the  fore,  almost  to 
the  effacing  of  Major  Stoddard's  memory,  was  a  Vir- 
ginian captain,  Alexander  Spottswood  Dandridge. 

Sally  cannot  say  enough  in  praise  of  this  "  ex- 
traordinary man."  "  His  person  is  more  elegantly 
formed,"  she  writes,  "  than  any  I  ever  saw ;  tall 
and  commanding.  His  forehead  is  very  white, 
though  the  lower  part  of  his  face  is  much  sun- 
burned; his  features  are  extremely  pleasing;  an 
even  white  set  of  teeth,  dark  hair  and  eyes.  I 
can't  better  describe  him  than  by  saying  he  is  the 
handsomest  man  I  ever  beheld.  ...  It  calls  for 
the  genius  of  a  Hogarth  to  characterize  him.  He  is 
possessed  of  a  good  understanding,  a  very  liberal 
education,  gay  and  volatile  to  excess.  He  is  an 
Indian,  a  gentleman,  grave  and  sad  in  the  same 
hour ;  but  he  assumes  at  pleasure  a  behavior  the 
most  courtly,  the  most  elegant  of  anything  I  ever 
saw.  He  is  very  entertaining  company  and  very 
vain  of  his  personal  beauties,  yet  nevertheless  his 
character  is  exceptional." 


270    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

The  fact  that  Captain  Dandridge  was  an  engaged 
man  seems  not  to  have  affected  in  the  least  Sally's 
regard  for  him.  Nor  can  we  wonder.  Sally  her- 
self tells  of  the  many  "  freedoms  "  of  which  he  was 
possessed  and  doubtless  these  "  freedoms  "  led  him 
to  behave  quite  as  if  he  were  unpromised.  Indeed, 
he  must  have  been  a  dangerous  character  and  if 
Sally  had  not  been  as  skilful  a  player  as  himself 
at  the  exciting  game  of  hearts,  he  might  have  gone 
away  a  winner.  But  as  it  was,  she  proved  herself 
a  match  for  him. 

Captain  Dandridge  arrived  at  the  farm  one  after- 
noon in  the  early  part  of  June,  desiring  quarters 
for  "  a  few  horsemen."  His  request  was  granted, 
and  for  a  few  days  the  fields  about  the  house  were 
once  more  "  alive  with  soldiers  "  and  the  lawns  and 
porches  of  the  Gwynedd  farm  sounded  with  the 
merry-making  of  girls  and  officers. 

On  the  very  first  evening  of  their  acquaintance 
the  captain  invited  Sally  to  walk  in  the  garden 
with  him.  Sally,  of  course,  did  not  refuse  and 
they  were  soon  seated  in  a  little  rustic  summer 
house  where  the  moon  "  gave  a  sadly  pleasing 
light."  "  We  could  not  have  been  more  sociable," 
writes  Sally,  "  had  we  been  acquainted  seven 
years." 

The  captain  could  not  believe  Sally  was  a 
Quakeress.  He  probably  thought  her  too  gay  a 
creature  for  that  sombre  sect. 

"  Are  you  a  Quaker,  Miss  Sally  ?  "  he  inquired. 


SARAH   WISTER   AND  DEBORAH  NORRIS.     271 

«  Yes." 

"  Now  are  you  a  Quaker  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am." 

"  Then  you  are  a  Tory." 

We  can  imagine  the  challenge  in  his  dark  eyes, 
and  Sally's  tone  of  indignant  protest  as  she  re- 
torted : 

"  Indeed  I  am  not !  " 

Sally  was  shocked  at  the  captain's  propensity  to 
swearing ;  she  thought  it  threw  a  shade  over  his 
accomplishments. 

"  Why  does  thee  do  so  ?  "  she  asked  reproach- 
fully. 

"  It  is  a  favorite  vice  of  mine,  Miss  Sally,"  was 
the  bold  and  laughing  response. 

Among  the  many  things  of  which  they  talked 
that  evening,  they  spoke  of  dress.  The  captain 
declared  he  was  careless  of  his  appearance.  He 
very  often  wore  his  hat  hind  side  before,  he 
said,  and  by  way  of  illustration  he  pulled  his  cap 
about  until  the  back  part  was  in  front.  This 
added  to  his  general  look  of  "  sauciness." 

"  I  have  no  patience,"  he  declared,  "  with  offi- 
cers who,  every  morning  before  setting  out,  wait 
to  be  powdered." 

"I  am  very  fond  of  powder,"  Sally  remarked 
demurely,  "  and  think  it  very  becoming." 

"  Are  you  ? "  inquired  the  captain,  looking 
interested. 

The  next  morning  when  he  made  his  appearance 


272    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

before  Miss  Sally,  behold,  he  was  powdered  "very 
white." 

"  Oh,  dear,"  exclaimed  Sally,  as  if  in  surprise, 
"  I  see  thee  is  powdered." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  was  the  smiling  reply,  "  I  have 
dressed  myself  off  for  you." 

This  was  a  compliment  to  which  Sally  did  not 
object.  But  when,  later  on  in  the  day,  the  captain 
became  too  forward  in  his  attentions,  Sally  did  not 
hesitate  to  answer  him  sharply.  He  had  sent  word 
to  her  that  he  was  in  the  parlor  and  begged  that 
she  would  come  and  see  him.  When  she  came  he 
rose  to  meet  her  and  catching  both  her  hands, 
exclaimed : 

"  Oh,  Miss  Sally,  I  have  a  sweetheart  for  you." 

"  Pooh  !  Ridiculous  !  "  retorted  Sally,  drawing 
back.     "  Loose  my  hand,  sir." 

"Well,  but  don't  be  cross,"  said  he,  dropping 
her  hands  and  looking  a  little  abashed,  then  adding, 
as  if  to  soften  her  heart  by  the  prospect  of  separa- 
tion, "  I  am  going  to  headquarters  ;  have  you  any 
commands  there  ?  " 

Sally  shook  her  head.  "None  at  all,"  she  an- 
swered, quite  unconcernedly.  But  after  a  moment's 
reflection  she  seemed  to  recollect  something,  "  Oh, 
yes,  I  have,"  she  exclaimed.  "Pray,  who  is  thy 
commanding  officer?  " 

"  Colonel  Bland,  ma'am." 

"  Please  give  my  compliments  to  him,"  she 
said    sweetly,    "  and    tell    him    I   should   be    glad 


SARAH   WISTER  AND  DEBORAH  NORRIS.     273 

if  he  would  send  thee  back  with  a  little  more 
manners." 

"  Sally,"  broke  out  the  captain,  reproachfully, 
"  you  have  a  spiteful  little  heart,"  and  he  turned 
away  as  if  to  leave  her.  But  thinking  better  of  it, 
he  came  back  and  putting  on  his  sauciest  face,  he 
asked  coaxingly: 

"  Sally,  if  Tacy  Vandereen  won't  have  me,  will 
you?" 

"  No,  really,  none  of  her  discarded  lovers." 

"  But  provided  I  prefer  you  to  her,  will  you  con- 
sent?" 

"  No,  I  won't." 

"  Very  well,  ma'am,"  and  with  that  "  he  ele- 
gantly walk'd  out  of  the  room." 

The  captain's  leave-taking,  Sally  informs  us, 
was  "  truly  affectionate."  It  occurred  about  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Sally  had  not  forgotten 
the  morning's  scene  and  was  looking  "grave." 
The  captain,  noticing  this,  remarked  to  her  sister, 
"  Miss  Betsey,  you  have  a  very  ill-natured  sister. 
Observe  how  cross  she  looks."  Then  turning  to 
Sally,  "I  hope  we  may  part  friends,  Miss  Sally," 
he  said  and  he  offered  his  hand. 

Sally  gave  him  hers.  He  took  it  and  kissed  it, 
"  in  a  very  gallant  manner."  At  the  parlor  door 
he  bowed  low  and  with  a  "  God  almighty  bless 
you,  ladies,"  he  was  gone. 

He  left  Sally  "  heart-safe  "  and  congratulating 
herself  that,  as  she  had  escaped  thus  far,  she  must 


274    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

be  "  quite  a  heroine  and  need  not  be  fearful  of  any 
of  the  lords  of  creation  in  the  future." 

It  was  only  a  few  days  after  Captain  Dandridge's 
departure  that  news  arrived  that  the  British  had 
evacuated  Philadelphia.  At  first  Sally  would  not 
let  herself  believe  the  joyous  report.  She  had  heard 
it  so  often,  she  said,  that  she  was  quite  "faithless," 
and  expressed  her  approbation  of  Pope's  twelfth 
beatitude,  "  Blessed  are  they  that  expect  nothing, 
for  they  shall  not  be  disappointed."  But  in  spite 
of  her  doubts  the  report  proved  true.  The  British 
had  really  decamped  and  Philadelphia  was  once 
more  open  to  its  rightful  citizens.  Sally  and  the 
other  girls  at  the  farm  could  not  restrain  their 
enthusiasm. 

"  The  redcoats  have  gone,  the  redcoats  have 
gone,"  they  all  exclaimed  together,  "  and  may  they 
never,  never,  never  return !  " 

With  this  happy  scene  Sally's  diary  closes  and 
our  little  Quakeress  with  her  "  whims  and  follies  " 
vanishes  from  our  sight.  She  was  soon  back  in  her 
city  home  and  we  may  well  believe  she  did  not 
wait  long  after  her  return  to  see  her  old  friend 
Deborah  and  tell  her  all  the  droll,  exciting  things 
which  she  had  not  recorded  in  her  diary. 

And  Deborah  had  some  things  to  say  to  Sally. 
She  had  not  been  without  adventures  in  her  friend's 
absence.  While  the  two  fair  Margarets,  Peggy 
Chew  and  Peggy  Shippen,  had  been  smiling  on  the 
British  officers,  Deborah  had  been  entertaining  the 


SARAH   WISTER   AND  DEBORAH  NORRIS.     275 

leaders  of  the  Revolution  in  her  mother's  pleasant 
drawing-rooms. 

Deborah's  mother  was  an  interesting  woman. 
Many  friends  and  acquaintances,  among  them  some 
of  the  most  distinguished  of  the  patriot  cause, 
gathered  round  the  Quaker  widow's  fireside  to  chat 
with  her  upon  the  questions  of  the  day.  Deborah 
was  early  taught  to  help  in  receiving  her  mother's 
guests  and  the  young  girl's  charm  as  a  hostess  is 
spoken  of  in  numerous  records  of  the  time. 

One  little  anecdote  remains  as  an  illustration  of 
her  ease  and  though tfulness.  This  is  the  story  as 
it  has  been  told  before  : 

"  One  day  the  Chevalier  de  Tiernan  (a  young 
Frenchman  in  our  service,  distinguished  for  wit, 
talent,  and  acquirement)  happened  to  call  on  Mrs. 
Norris  when  the  room  was  full  of  old  friends  and 
persons  of  their  own  religious  persuasion,  between 
whom  and  the  accomplished  foreigner  there  seemed 
little  in  common.  Deborah  looked  anxiously 
round  and  presently  singled  out  Humphrey  Mar- 
shall, a  distinguished  naturalist,  but  a  man  of  the 
plainest  address,  and  presented  them  to  each  other, 
adroitly  turning  the  conversation  upon  botany, 
which  she  knew  to  be  a  favorite  science  of  De 
Tiernan's,  and  then  left  them  to  look  after  other 
guests.  After  a  long  talk  De  Tiernan  came  to  her 
with  the  inquiry,  '  Miss  Norris,  have  you  many 
such  men  as  this  Mr.  Marshall  among  you  ? '  " 

Deborah's  introduction  had  proved  a  triumph  of 


276    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

social  etiquette.  With  her  ready  tact  she  had 
"  singled  out "  the  one  man  among  all  her  company 
who  could  make  De  Tiernan  enjoy  his  call.  It  was 
for  such  acts  as  this,  of  kind  and  courteous  spirit, 
that  Deborah  Norris  was  esteemed  one  of  the  most 
attractive  women  of  her  day. 

Apart  from  her  duties  as  hostess,  Deborah  had 
been  devoting  much  of  her  time  to  reading  and 
studying.  For,  now  that  she  was  out  of  school, 
seeing  something  of  learned  people,  she  began  to 
realize  the  need  of  education  more  than  she  ever 
had  before.  She  regretted  that  she  had  not  paid 
better  attention  to  good  Mr.  Benezet's  instructions, 
and  she  thought  with  something  like  remorse  of 
the  many  lesson  periods  which  she  had  spent  in 
play. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  Debby  Norris  had  been 
a  hard  girl  to  keep  in  order;  but  nevertheless, 
such  was  the  case.  For  although  she  was  a  quieter, 
more  gentle  girl  than  Sally  Wister,  she  was  just  as 
full  of  fun.  It  was  not  until  Mr.  Benezet  appealed 
to  her  sense  of  honor  and  appointed  her  monitress 
that  she  had  become  good. 

Now  that  her  school  days  were  over  and  she 
felt  conscious  of  her  own  deficiencies  in  book  learn- 
ing, Debby  undertook  to  educate  herself.  She 
read  and  studied  with  great  energy  and  persever- 
ance and  very  soon  she  had  learned  more  than  she 
ever  did  at  school.  We  have  to  admire  this  brave, 
ambitious  girl  working  out  her  own  enlightenment 


SARAH   WISTER  AND  DEBORAH  NORRIS.     277 

at  a  time  when  useful  books  and  able  masters  were 
difficult  to  find,  and  when  a  woman's  education 
seldom  went  beyond  the  sampler  and  the  spelling- 
book. 

However,  there  came  a  day  when  Debby's  schol- 
arly habits  met  with  a  serious  interruption.  This 
serious  interruption  was  no  other  than  young  Dr. 
Logan.  That  gentleman  had  been  completing  his 
course  of  medical  study  at  Edinburgh  and  Paris  and 
in  the  autumn  of  the  year  1780  he  returned  to 
America.  His  home-coming  must  have  been  a  sad 
one.  His  parents  and  his  brother  had  died  in  his 
absence,  the  farm  at  Stenton  had  been  pillaged  by 
British  troops,  and  he  found  himself  without  a 
family,  heir  to  nothing  but  "  wasted  estates  and 
utterly  depreciated  paper  money." 

Fortunately  for  Dr.  Logan,  however,  he  had 
many  friends  who  sought  to  comfort  him  in  his 
trouble  and  among  them  none  were  kinder  than 
Deborah  and  Deborah's  mother  and  Deborah's 
brothers.  He  must  have  spent  much  of  his  time 
with  the  Norrises  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  he  grew 
to  love  the  sweet-faced,  gentle-mannered  daughter 
of  the  house,  with  her  thoughtful  mind,  her  quiet 
humor,  and  her  earnest,  fearless  spirit. 

Deborah  and  he  had  long  been  friends.  The 
mischievous  Sally  Wister  was  probably  right  when 
she  called  them  old  playfellows.  They  both  be- 
longed to  the  good  old  Quaker  stock  of  Philadel- 
phia,   their   families    had   always    been    intimate ; 


278   COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

indeed,  their  first  American  ancestors  had  been 
neighbors  and  comrades. 

Theirs  was  a  short  courtship  and  a  shorter  en- 
gagement. They  were  neither  of  them  of  the  kind 
to  love  lightly  and  there  was  no  doubt  or  hesitancy 
in  their  minds.  In  the  last  year  of  the  war,  when 
Deborah  was  not  quite  twenty,  they  were  married. 

Thanks  to  Deborah's  own  pen,  we  are  able  to 
see  the  young  husband  as  she  herself  saw  him  ;  but 
there  is  a  touch  of  pathos  in  the  portrait,  which  we 
discover  when  we  learn  that  it  was  done  in  after 
years,  while  Deborah  was  a  widow. 

"  His  person  was  formed  with  exact  symmetry," 
she  writes,  "  about  the  middle  size,  erect  and  grace- 
ful in  his  demeanor;  his  countenance  would  not 
easily  be  forgotten  by  any  person  who  had  once 
seen  him ;  it  had  an  expression  of  thought,  benig- 
nity, and  of  open,  unsuspecting  honesty  that  was 
very  remarkable.  His  mind  was  wholly  unpolluted 
by  avarice.  His  heart  was  tender,  and  he  was 
often  led  to  sympathize  with  others  in  their  dis- 
tress and  difficulties.  Yet  he  had  a  quickness  of 
temper,  and  could  show,  on  occasions,  the  utmost 
spirit  and  resolution,  for  his  personal  courage 
was  great.  He  Avas  a  most  true  republican,  con- 
demning luxury  and  despising  false  glory.  I  may 
be  asked  for  the  reverse  of  this  picture.  To  me  he 
had  no  reverse,  but  was  exactly  the  kind,  good,  up- 
right man  which  I  have  represented  him." 

Deborah  had  left  her  rich  mother's  home  to  be- 


SARAH   WISTER   AND  DEBORAH  NORRIS.     279 

come  the  wife  of  this  excellent  young  man  but  very 
needy  heir.  Strict  economy  and  good  manage- 
ment were  necessary.  Deborah  always  bore  this  in 
mind  and  she  proved  so  clever  a  housewife  that 
she  and  her  husband  were  able  to  live  in  comfort  if 
not  in  luxury. 

A  year  after  their  marriage  they  moved  to  the 
farm  at  Stenton.  That  beautiful  old  estate  was  a 
very  paradise  of  rural  beauties.  It  is  pictured  as 
a  place  of  swelling  meadow-land  shaded  by  maples, 
oaks,  beeches,  and  dark  rows  of  hemlocks  and 
crossed  by  a  stream  of  "  crooked  water  "  of  the 
Indian  name  Wingohocking.  The  house  itself  was 
like  a  fabled  mansion,  with  its  underground  pas- 
sage, its  concealed  staircase,  and  its  secret  door. 
But  the  mention  of  cosy  chimney-places,  corner 
cupboards,  and  the  great  library  of  book-loving 
masters,  which  extended  along  the  whole  half  front 
of  the  house,  makes  the  big  farmhouse  seem  very 
real  and  comfortable. 

In  this  ideal  home  Mrs.  Logan  was  able  to  in- 
dulge her  love  of  country,  flowers,  and  animals, 
of  study,  poetry,  and  society.  We  hear  of  her 
rejoicing  in  her  fields  of  clover  and  timothy,  gather- 
ing flowers  from  her  garden  to  decorate  her  rooms, 
and  feeding  the  squirrels  who  lived  in  the  trees 
about  the  house.  She  had  one  very  tame  squirrel 
who  was  a  great  favorite  with  her  husband  and 
used  to  eat  from  the  doctor's  hand  and  search  his 
pockets  for  provender.     Of  the  flowers  Mrs.  Logan 


280    COLONIAL    DAMES    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

wrote,  "  No  one  can  tell  how  much  innocent  enjoy- 
ment I  have  derived  from  flowers  ;  "  and  speaking  of 
animals,  she  said,  "  To  have  the  animal  world  about 
you  happy  and  inoffensive  is  no  mean  part  of  par- 
adise in  my  opinion." 

We  also  hear  of  Mrs.  Logan  in  the  great  library 
at  Stenton,  poring  over  books  of  poetry  and  vol- 
umes of  history.  Of  the  poets,  Milton  appealed  to 
her  most  and  he  was  in  her  thoughts  when  she  was 
stirred  by  beauties  of  nature,  or  deep  religious  sen- 
timents. By  way  of  a  pleasant  diversion,  she  herself 
occasionally  wrote  verses,  —  if  we  may  believe  Sally 
Wister,  she  began  at  an  early  age,  —  and  allowed 
them  to  appear  in  the  pages  of  the  "  National 
Gazette,"  smooth,  flowing  verses  that  are  valued  now 
only  as  expressions  of  the  author's  poetic  tempera- 
ment. "  The  associations  of  poetry,"  she  once  said, 
"  embellish  life."  Her  interest  in  history,  espe- 
cially the  history  of  her  own  country,  led  to  some 
valuable  additions  to  our  colonial  records.  In  the 
garrets  at  Stenton  she  found  old,  tattered,  almost 
unintelligible  letters  written  by  William  Penn, 
James  Logan,  her  husband's  ancestor,  and  other 
important  personages  of  their  day  and  she  spent 
many  years  deciphering,  copying,  and  preparing  for 
publication  these  papers  relating  to  the  first  days 
of  the  Pennsylvania  province. 

And  again  we  hear  of  Mrs.  Logan  entertaining 
many  distinguished  visitors,  Americans  and  for- 
eigners, who,  as  they  passed  through  Philadelphia, 


SARAH    YVISTER   AND  DEBORAH  NORRIS.     281 

used  to  enjoy  stopping  at  beautiful,  hospitable 
Stenton.  Among  the  guests  who  gathered  on  the 
lawns  and  porches  of  the  fine  old  farmhouse  were 
Kosciusko,  for  whom  she  felt,  as  she  affirmed, 
"  mingled  emotions  of  admiration,  respect,  and 
pity ;  "  the  French  minister,  Genet,  whom  she  de- 
scribes as  "  much  of  a  gentleman  in  appearance  and 
manner ;  "  and  Dr.  Franklin,  to  whom  she  loved  to 
listen  and  of  whose  conversation  she  remarked  "  a 
natural,  good-humored  (not  sarcastic)  wit  played 
cheerfully  along  and  beguiled  you  into  maxims  of 
prudence  and  wisdom."  Thomas  Jefferson,  who 
was  an  intimate  friend  of  her  husband's,  was  often 
at  Stenton  and  in  his  letters  to  the  doctor  he 
always  sends  "  affectionate  messages  to  my  dear  Mrs. 
Logan."  But  the  visitor  of  whom  Deborah  Logan 
felt  the  proudest  was  General  Washington  and  she 
has  left  a  delightful  picture  of  the  great  childless 
man  seated  with  her  boys  upon  his  knee,  "  caressing  " 
them,  and  speaking  of  them  to  his  sweet  Quaker 
hostess  "  with  commendations  that  made  their  way 
immediately  to  a  mother's  heart." 

This  little  extract  shows  Mrs.  Logan's  pride  and 
devotion  as  a  mother.  And  it  was  the  care  of  her 
three  small  boys,  together  with  her  domestic  re- 
sponsibilities, that  occupied  the  greater  part  of  her 
time. 

Her  domestic  responsibilities  were  not  slight. 
Indeed,  she  was  another  one  of  those  remarkable 
colonial    dames,    who,    without    a    suggestion    of 


282    COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

flurry,  accomplished  so  many  different  things  in 
one  short  day  that  later  hurrying,  worrying  gener- 
ations can  only  wonder  and  grow  envious.  From 
her  own  pen  we  have  a  glimpse  of  the  industrious, 
helpful  life  she  led  and  of  her  pleasant  intercourse 
with  other  farmers'  wives  in  the  neighborhood. 

"  I  have  not  forgotten,"  she  writes,  "  the  agree- 
able interchange  of  visits,  the  beneficial  emulation, 
and  the  harmless  pride  with  which  we  exhibited 
specimens  of  our  industry  and  good  management 
to  each  other.  The  spinning-wheel  was  going  in 
every  house,  and  it  was  a  high  object  of  our  ambi- 
tion to  see  our  husbands  and  families  clothed  in 
our  own  manufactures  (a  good  practice,  which  my 
honored  husband  never  relinquished),  and  to  pro- 
duce at  our  social  dinner-parties  the  finest  ale  of  our 
own  brewing,  the  best  home-made  wines,  cheese, 
and  other  articles  which  we  thought  ought  to  be 
made  among  ourselves  rather  than  imported  from 
abroad." 

It  is  a  picture  of  an  old-time  home  and  farm  life 
that  has  gone  from  our  sight  and  is  now  known  to 
us  only  as  a  beautiful  tradition.  As  one  reads  of 
Deborah's  part  in  it  one  falls  to  thinking  of  the 
merry  friend  she  once  had  and  wondering  if  Sally 
Wister  was  ever  present  at  those  charming  social 
and  domestic  gatherings.  And  if  she  was,  did  she 
not  get  her  share  of  the  "  beneficial  emulation  "  ? 
In  former  times  Major  Stoddard  had  praised  her 
sewing  as  he  sat  beside  her  and  watched  her  mend 


SARAH    WISTER  AND  DEBORAH  NORRIS.     283 

her  apron ;  Captain  Dandridge  had  admired  her 
sampler  and  wished  that  she  could  teach  the  Vir- 
ginia girls  some  of  her  needle  wisdom.  Were 
Deborah's  "farmeresses  "  as  appreciative  of  Sally's 
stitches  as  Sally's  beaux  had  been  ? 

We  cannot  say.  Little  is  known  of  Sally's 
later  days.  History  only  tells  us  that  she  "  grew 
to  womanhood,"  that  she  became  "  quite  serious," 
and  that  she  "  died  unmarried."  We  are  left  to 
wonder  about  the  rest.  Why  did  Sally  grow  seri- 
ous ?  And  why  did  she  never  marry  ?  All  sorts 
of  romantic  reasons  suggest  themselves,  for  Sally 
was  the  very  girl  to  have  an  "  interesting  story." 
But  we  can  get  no  further  than  surmises  and  it 
is  better,  perhaps,  not  to  puzzle  ourselves  with 
what  came  after,  but  to  think  of  her  always  as 
the  light-hearted,  mischievous  Sally  Wister,  who 
frolicked  and  laughed  and  chatted  and  flirted  on 
the  Gwynedd  farm  with  the  rebel  officers.  And 
so  we  will  let  her  depart  from  us  just  as  she 
came,  a  smiling,  pouting,  sweet,  coquettish  little 
Quakeress. 

But  of  Deborah  we  can  know  more.  We  can 
think  of  her  rounding  out  her  life  a  lovable,  serene 
old  lady,  cheerful  in  spite  of  her  sorrow  and  widow- 
hood, enjoying,  as  she  herself  declared,  in  the  com- 
pany of  friends  "a  blameless  cup  of  tea — that  is, 
without  scandal,"  but  liking  best  to  sit  alone  in 
her  library  reading  the  books  that  savored  of  the 
past,  or  writing  in  her  diary  and  on  her  memoir  of 


284    COLONIAL  DAMES  AND  DAUGHTERS. 

her  husband,  or  living  in  "  the  thought  of  other 
years  and  the  remembrance  of  dear  and  ldVed 
friends  —  and  one  tender  and  cherished  affection 
which  now  mingles  with  all  my  thoughts  and  visits 
me  in  everything  I  meet." 

For  those  last  days,  bright  and  yet  sad,  there  is 
a  beautiful  expression  in  the  pages  of  Mrs.  Logan's 
diary.  "It  is  now  autumn,"  she  writes,  "fading 
into  4  the  sear  and  yellow  leaf ; '  the  sun  is  seen 
through  a  haze ;  the  air  is  so  bland  and  temperate 
that  it  might  be  mistaken  for  spring ;  but  the  days 
are  shortening  apace.  The  wasps  are  flying  against 
the  windows  in  pursuit  of  some  sheltered  situation 
for  winter ;  a  few  birds  with  dissonant  notes  instead 
of  song,  among  whom  I  discover  the  blue  jay  and 
the  robin;  the  afternoon  sun  seems  impatient  to 
reach  his  goal  in  the  west ;  and  the  nights  are  long 
and  chilly  and  dark.     It  all  answers  to  myself." 

Like  the  seasons,  her  life  had  been  moving  on 
with  careful  and  well-ordered  plan,  and  when  her 
winter  came  it  found  her  ready. 


Ii: 


—  TonitDAYUSEH 


wnwPOTOrur, 


LOAN  D^BORRO™> 

Renewal,  mav  M%4^'  aU  °=<" 


v<c  50m 


GENERAL  LIBRARY  -  U.C.  BERKELEY 


ill  sum  1 111 1 1  in  ii 

B0QQ313273 


